


A Perfect Stranger

by winterwonderland



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Humor, M/M, Minor Character Death, Violence, loosely based on the film Desperado (1995)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 09:34:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 30,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2020083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwonderland/pseuds/winterwonderland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A stranger arrives into town hot on the trail of someone he has been searching for far too long. He’s out for revenge but is soon to learn that this time he might have bitten off more than he can chew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The storyline borrows somewhat from the 1995 Rodriguez movie ‘Desperado’, so if you were still planning on seeing that one, be warned that this story may spoil one or two key plot points for you.
> 
> All rights to the characters and original storylines go to their respective owners. 
> 
> Contains profanity, adult themes and a fair amount of violence (like, seriously).

The carrier bag was heavier than it looked, and Nasir was starting to feel the weight of it as the strap kept pulling on the collar of his t-shirt, making the fabric chafe against his exceedingly clammy skin. And he cursed to himself at the heat as he once more wiped the sweat from his face.

The idea of wearing all black might have felt reasonable at the time of its conception, but then that had been in Madrid where it was sixty degrees and raining. Now it was over ninety, arid, and the scorching sun was all but lighting him on fire under his leather jacket.

He hiked the bag strap further up his shoulder as he pulled the door open and stepped inside the café.

The room was an average size for a coffee place like this, probably able to seat about a good dozen people, but the tables were half-empty this early in the day. The floor length windows on the front wall were covered with blinds, and there was dust and smoke in equal measures dancing in the light filtering in.

The door closed behind him with a heavy thud, and he started towards the counter, boots echoing on the tiled floor, the sound accentuated in the silence that had suddenly fallen around him. He tried his best to ignore the other patrons, but he could still feel the eyes drilling in his back, examining his every move as he placed his bag on the stool beside him and leaned on the bar counter.

“Un café cassé, s’il vous plait,” he said evenly to the waiter standing with his back to him.

The lanky, middle-aged man picked up another glass from the side table and proceeded to dry it off with the stained cloth in his hand. He kept working on it for a good moment more, before he finally turned to face Nasir. His voice was steady and calm, with only a hint of a French accent.

“You might want to try someplace else, sir. We’re closed.”

Nasir took a quick look around him and then looked back at the waiter, who was still staring at him stoically. He couldn’t help the wry smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “A Fanta, then. It’s too hot for a coffee, anyway.”

The other man kept staring at him, making no sign of filling the order. But then he wasn’t talking about the place being closed either anymore, guess that was something at least. Gradually his eyes slipped away from Nasir’s face and focused on the spot beside him. He nodded towards the bag eyeing it suspiciously.

“What do you have there?”

Nasir shrugged. “Stuff.” The sound of chair legs scraping the floor somewhere behind him made his muscles tense, but he hid his reaction as much as he could and continued in his best confused-tourist-voice. “Look, it’s just my computer and some spare clothes. Nothing interesting.”

“Show us,” the waiter said gesturing towards the bag. “Open it.” It was not a suggestion.

Nasir sighed and picked up the bag, only to hear even more of the patrons getting on their feet as a result. He dropped the bag on the counter and raised his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. “Hey, I don’t mean any trouble here. It’s just a piece of luggage.”

The waiter signaled to the man now standing behind Nasir, and he stepped up and reached for the bag, sliding it over to him on the bar surface. He took his time with the zipper, and Nasir held his breath, eyes following the big hand as it made its way along the sides. Soon enough he was finished and then rather unceremoniously let the other half of the case fall on the counter, effectively revealing the content to the room.

The glossy, white surface with its bitten apple logo glistened against the worn out fabric of the bag, and Nasir finally felt safe enough to exhale. There was a distinct flare of an  _I told you so_ in his laugh as he turned his attention back to the barman, although inside his head that laugh had a much more manic  _I cannot fucking believe my luck_ air to it. But as it happened, his relief might have been a tad premature after all, because it was then that the man beside him, apparently happy with the result of his investigation, let go of the other side of the bag, and it landed on the counter with a very, very loud clank. 

The rest of the room were up on their feet in a split second, weapons raised, and Nasir took a tentative step backwards, his back on the side wall, trying his best to keep all the patrons in his sight. He raised his hands again.

“I meant what I said, I don’t want any trouble.” The man closest to him took a step forward, forcing Nasir further towards the wall, and further away from his bag. He groaned inwardly and decided to try again, “I have no problem with you, okay? I’m just looking for someone, and I was told I should try here. He calls himself Le Boucher. He’s doing business in the area.” The room was silent, but at least he wasn’t riddled with bullet holes yet, he took that as a good sign. “Anyone?”

But the moment didn’t last too long as the waiter turned to face the other men. The next sequence of events seemed to happen in slow motion, and Nasir almost felt as if he heard the order being shouted out even before the waiter had opened his mouth to speak.

“Tuez-le!”

He watched in mild desperation as his bag disappeared with the waiter behind the counter. Great, there went the guns then. Well, okay,  _most_ of his guns. Thankfully he always carried a few extras on him. Just in case.

“Not yet,” he snarled, and then with a quick flick of his wrists produced a pair of semi-automatics out of his jacket sleeves. Hell if he was going to be killed in this shithole, and before he even had gotten served a drop. What was that about, anyway? It was no way to treat a potential customer.


	2. Chapter 2

Nasir took a last look around the room, taking in the broken glass and tables and chairs and bodies lying haphazardly on the floor. He sighed and shook his head in disappointment; this was _not_ what he had come here for.

He walked up to the bar and grabbed a pen and an old receipt from the counter and proceeded to write on it. The message was clear and succinct, he hoped. Let them know he was here and that he was coming for them. He let the piece of paper float on the floor behind him and stepped over the last of the bodies lying in front of the door.

The harsh sunlight outside made him blink a few times, and he had to give his eyes a few seconds to adjust. He took the moment to look up and down the road in front of him, trying to decide which way he’d rather go, though it was pretty much a heads and tails situation at this point, to be honest. So, he turned left on an instinct.

He had fared well enough in the fight; at least he still had all his limbs on him, and no fatal internal damage either, as far as he could tell. The whole of his right arm was burning, though, and he had to hiss in pain when he tried to massage the shoulder with his free hand. And when he looked down on that same hand a moment later, he was not exactly shocked to see it covered in blood.

It was turning out to be one of those days.

Nasir wiped the hand on his jeans and finally realized that there was at least one perk to wearing black even in this searing heat after all: blood didn’t show.

He continued his way up the sidewalk, switching the bag to his left hand and then swinging it over his shoulder as he went, trying to keep his step as steady as he could. The blood loss was starting to make him feel a little light-headed, which meant he’d probably best find a hotel room sooner rather than later, before he collapsed on the street. He had no desire to deal with any authorities, medical or otherwise, at this point.

He turned the corner, never noticing the door to the café opening again after him.

The streets round this part of town were pretty much deserted under the midday sun, the only sound breaking the silence was the occasional TV or radio blasting onto the street from an open window or balcony door. Nasir could hear the distant buzz of traffic, but that was coming at least a few blocks away, probably even further than that, and it suited him just fine. So, he kept on walking, minding his step, with only Jimi Hendrix as company, as the familiar first bars of ‘Purple Haze’ started flowing across the street from somewhere above his head, conveniently drowning out the sound of steps behind him that were gradually closing in.

Then suddenly another form appeared onto the street from a side alley, turning to walk towards him. Nasir was still too far away to get a decent look, but it was clear at least that it was a man – a fairly big man at that – over six feet tall with a broad chest and shoulders to match. Not necessarily someone you’d like to bump into in a dark alley as it were. But then, neither was Nasir. Fortunate then, for both of them, that they were in broad daylight.

The closer the man got, the more Nasir had the feeling he was not from around here. He was too fair and tall to be a native Moroccan, or probably even French or Spanish for that matter. But then the way he carried himself didn’t exactly make him look like a tourist, either. Not that it mattered to Nasir either way; he was just another passer-by, and even with his size there was really no reason to think the man would be any threat to him. Still, for whatever reason, Nasir found himself strangely intrigued nevertheless.

Of course, there was also the fact that the man happened to be, for all intents and purposes, a very good-looking individual. If you went for the whole clichéd tall, ripped and handsome look, that is. And Nasir...Well, he had never claimed to be original when it came to his taste in men, now had he?

Their eyes met across the road, and the gaze held as the older man came closer in a far quicker pace than Nasir was able to muster in his present condition. Soon, he was only fifteen feet away or so, and for a fraction of a second it almost seemed as he was about to smile in greeting, but then his attention slipped away, his gaze travelling past Nasir and focusing on something behind him. The change in his expression and body language was so subtle it was almost undetectable, but Nasir was able to see it nonetheless, and he intuitively knew the cause as well.

He would have cursed his apparent earlier carelessness if he had had the time, but he didn’t, so he decided to act instead. He was already running low on strength, his muscles aching and only half-working and the same could be said about his brain; at this point he was basically functioning solely on adrenaline and instinct. He prayed to the gods he no longer believed in that it would be enough.

He reached his left hand into the waist of his jeans, and he could see the man in front of him stopping on his tracks, his eyes now down on Nasir’s hand.

“Duck!” Nasir heard himself shout before he turned around and found himself face to face with the waiter from earlier who had blood running down the side of his face, some of it already dried and caked on his forehead. Nasir had the element of surprise on his side, not to mention two functioning frontal lobes, and was able to pull the trigger first, but the gun jammed and clicked and clicked, and soon it was clear it was out of bullets. Fuck.

The waiter’s shocked expression changed into a manic grin, as he shook his two guns in front of Nasir’s face.

“Nique ta mère,” he spat, aiming the guns on Nasir’s head, “petit fils de pute.” And that was where he made his mistake. Now it wasn’t the insult as such, or even that he used the word _petit_ , although that played a big part in fueling Nasir’s subsequent reaction. Mostly the mistake was to talk at all, because it gave Nasir time to act. Granted only a second or so, but he made the best of it.

The kick to the groin was quick and efficient and had the waiter doubling over enough that Nasir could raise his own gun without too much fear of getting shot in the meanwhile and hit the man with the back of it. Straight in the still gashing wound on his temple. This made the man finally lose his balance, and as he braced for the fall, one of the guns slipped his grasp, dropping to the ground and sliding away from him on the sidewalk.

Nasir seized the opportunity and jumped on the man still hunched over on the pavement, going for the gun that he still held in his other hand. This resulted in the two of them rolling around a few times, the gun wedged between them. For a moment it seemed Nasir had the upper hand in the fight, but the waiter recovered surprisingly well, and so when their bodies finally came to a halt, Nasir found himself lying on the ground, the bigger man’s body weighing him down and the barrel of the gun pressing into his neck.

The waiter opened his mouth to speak, and Nasir could hardly wait what pearls of wisdom the man was going to throw his way this time, when suddenly he saw something moving on the pavement out of the corner of his eye. The other gun. And a hand going for the gun.

Evidently the man on top of him was seeing the same thing, as the pressure on Nasir’s jugular disappeared, and no sooner the gun was pointing away from him and towards what Nasir could only assume was the person he had seen walking towards him just a little earlier. Why the man hadn’t just ran away when he had had the chance, Nasir couldn’t understand, but now he was going to be shot because of it. Well, guess there always were consequences to stupidity, though being killed by this French asshole was taking the rule a bit far.

Now, Nasir really did not have an ounce of strength left in any part of his body, and he was pretty sure the adrenaline was all but gone, too, but fuck this shit. Fuck this shit with a ten foot pole and a pineapple.

He could hear the hammer being cocked back, and he raised his head and bared his teeth and went straight for the other man’s exposed neck. The gun went off, but without any real aim as the waiter was too busy howling in pain, Nasir’s teeth still lodged in his skin. He used the man’s shock to his advantage one last time, rolling them over and grabbing hold of the gun over the man’s hand, their fingers nearly intertwining over the steel. Then he forced the barrel under the waiter’s jaw.

And then he pulled the trigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Nique ta mère” = “Motherfucker” (literally “Fuck your mother”)  
> “Petit fils de pute” = “Little son of a bitch”


	3. Chapter 3

The next time Nasir opened his eyes, he was having an exceptionally hard time focusing his gaze. Also his eyelids felt like they were made of lead, and he had to struggle to not let them close again. He could kind of make out the decorative patterns on the ceiling, the rosette in the middle from where the chandelier was hanging, but it was all still mostly a hazy blur to him. If he could just stop these black dots from swimming before his eyes, it might…

Wait a minute…What?

Patterns? Ceiling? Chandelier?

The sudden jolt of adrenaline had his eyes opened with much less effort, and soon even the haze was beginning to clear away. Now, his head was still as heavy as fuck, but he was able to strain his neck a little bit, and then a little bit more, only to find himself staring straight into a vintage Coca-Cola ad.

Well, that was odd. He blinked a few times, as if that would have the view make more sense somehow.

No, it was a front of a t-shirt with a vintage Coca-Cola ad. And not just any t-shirt, a t-shirt belonging to a person with a wide chest and a long torso. An endless torso at that.

Nasir’s eyes travelled upward on the red fabric, until he finally found the face that went with the body that went with the shirt. And was rewarded a tentative smile and warm green eyes for his troubles. Recognition flashed somewhere in the back of his mind.

“I was starting to wonder when you would wake up again,” the man said, snapping close the book he had been holding as he sat down on a bar stool next to Nasir. He had an American accent but it sounded a little too generic to be genuine, much like Nasir’s own. So, that was another nationality he could probably cross off the earlier list.

It was then that Nasir realized his own position. He was lying on a counter of some sort, high enough to be almost chest level with the other man now that he was seated. Nasir tried to peer past the man’s bulky form to get a better sense of the place he was being kept in, but his muscles weren’t obeying, and the chest positioned in front of his face was too wide for him to really see anything else but the stretched out red cotton advising him to have a Coke and a smile.

He didn’t really feel like having either.

“Where’m I?” he asked, slurring his words slightly, as he kept turning his head to hold the other man in his sight, an action that required way more effort than it should have. A thought entered his mind then, a disturbing thought, but with the day he had been having not too farfetched either.

“You’ve giv’n m’s’mthing, right?” he mumbled, his raspy voice carrying far less venom than he would have liked. “What…have…you…giv’n’me?” If he concentrated enough on every single word he could almost come out with whole ones.

The other man shook his head in what looked like mild frustration and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You don’t remember?” he started, “You were in bad shape right after you shot that man earlier. You remember him at least, right? A French guy, two guns, the side of his head cut open?”

Yeah, Nasir remembered. He only wondered why the other man didn’t seem to be more perturbed about having just witnessed someone being killed in front of him. But he didn’t have time to think about it further, when the man already continued.

“Though, I guess this wound of yours is pretty deep, man,” he said, pointing to Nasir’s shoulder with the scissors in his hand. “You’ve lost quite a bit of blood. Honestly, it’s no wonder you passed out.”

Nasir blinked at him a few times. Okay. So maybe he wasn’t drugged out in the hands of a random maniac, after all. Maybe it was all just a...

“Well, then there was that Vicodin and vodka you had, of course.”

It was this piece of information, even if delivered with such nonchalance, that had Nasir’s body finally take action. Well, try to take action, anyway. He needed to get out of here, away from this fucking giant as soon as possible. For all Nasir knew, he was about to be served with a side of fava beans and Chianti. Or vodka and horse tranquilizers, as it were.

But his body was still not quit as compliant as he would have wished, and his escape efforts only resulted in him nearly falling from the top of the counter. The only thing stopping his face from reaching its destination on the floor was one big arm scooping to take hold of his middle and gently rolling him on his back again.

“Hey, I’m only here to help you, okay?” the man said, his face more serious this time as it came back to view leaning over Nasir. “The same with the meds, it’s not some evil plan or anything, I only gave you those because you’re going to need them.”

“Need them?” Nasir’s head was still reeling from everything, and it took him a little too long to finally take in everything else that was going on beside him on the counter. _A scalpel, water bowls, a bandage roll…_

“Yeah, this is going to hurt. Sorry, no ways around it I’m afraid.”

_A bottle of vodka, another knife, forceps, a bottle of iodine…_

Suddenly there was a wooden spoon in front of his face, and Nasir focused his eyes back on the man beside him.

“You might want to bite on this,” he said, smiling almost apologetically.

Nasir accepted the offer absentmindedly, while his brain still tried to catch up on what exactly was going on here. The unmistakable sound of latex snapping against skin was the last piece of the puzzle that his muddled mind evidently needed to figure it all out, but at that point it was already too late. And no later, he could feel the blade of the knife cutting into his flesh.

The dull throbbing in his arm that Nasir had almost gotten used to by now was swiftly replaced with a searing, white hot pain that had him seeing stars. It was almost too much for his body to handle, and a part of him was more than ready to succumb to the sweet relief of unconsciousness, but he was also on pure survival mode now, and it was forcing him to stay awake.

So, he bit on the wooden handle between his teeth as hard as he could and waited for the attack on his arm to end.

“I’m guessing this one had your name on it.”

Nasir snapped his eyes open and found himself staring at a pair of blood stained forceps, a bullet held between the ends. He spat out the spoon still wedged in his mouth, followed by a one or two splinters.

“What the fuck are you doing? Why are y–”

The bullet was dropped unceremoniously into a paper bin on the floor, soon followed by a pair of bunched up rubber gloves.

“What is it, by the way, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Nasir had to shake his head a little; evidently he was having a hard time keeping up with the conversation again. “What?”

“Your name,” the man clarified with a patient smile offering up his hand. “I’m Agron.”

Nasir kept staring stupidly at the hand hovering over his chest, almost as if he had forgotten what he was supposed to be doing with it. After a few more seconds of silence, the other man – Agron – gave up and pulled his hand away and sat back down with a sigh.

“Fine. Keeping the mystery alive, I get it,” he said leaning away from Nasir, his face disappearing from sight, but not before Nasir could see the side of his mouth curling slightly upward again.

Silence fell between them while this Agron person busied himself with something on the counter just out of Nasir’s line of sight. And then it was Nasir’s turn to give out a resigned sigh. Okay, he didn’t really have the strength or honestly even the willpower to fight this anymore. If these were going to be his last moments on Earth, then at least he could make them a little more pleasant. With some small talk, for example, it might even distract him from the pain in his arm. He returned to his earlier question that had been left unanswered.

“Why are you doing this?”

Agron came back into view with an unlit roll-up between his lips. Hardly the appropriate time for a smoke, Nasir thought to himself, but then there had been little about this man so far that had been appropriate anyway.

The man took the joint between his fingers as he spoke.

“You saved my life back there, and I owe you. I thought this is the least I could do to pay you back. If you’d gone to the hospital, I’m pretty sure you would’ve quickly found yourself in the jail next. They frown upon all that shooting-other-people stuff around here, you know?”

And with that, the cigarette was back in his mouth and Nasir saw him flick the lighter that seemed to have magically appeared in his other hand.

“So, you…you know what you’re doing, right? With this removing bullets and operating shit?” He hated the desperation in his voice, but then again, he was the one being cut open here. The desperation was not completely without merit.

The flame of the lighter died, and Agron looked back at Nasir, picking up a book from the counter and holding it in front of his face, close enough for him to make out the title:

**Surgical Wounds: Wound Management, Sutures, And Post-operative Care.**

“Good thing I own a book-shop,” he said out of the side of his mouth, the cigarette still hanging from the other.

And again, what felt like the hundredth time since he’d met the man, Nasir’s eyes flew wide open with shock, and he had the instinctive reaction to just run the hell out of the man’s reach. Unfortunately, his limbs were still as uncooperative as ever, and so after another bout of flailing around like a turtle on its back, he gave up and flopped down on the table.

Great. He had survived a shootout earlier, two of them as a matter of fact. And that was only from this morning. He had just outlived a ten or so men armed to the teeth, hell-bent on killing him, but now he was going to die in the hands of this dimple-cheeked simpleton. Amazing. Absolutely fucking amazing.

Agron put the book down and picked up the lighter and flicked it again, but then he paused just as he was about to light his cigarette. The smirk on his face faded away, replaced by a more sympathetic expression. Maybe it was the wide-eyed panic on Nasir’s face that made him finally take pity.

“I _am_ a nurse as well, so you can stop looking so horrified.”

A sudden snort escaped Nasir then, and he stared back at Agron incredulously. But the man only stared back, his face blank, while he finally got to lighting the joint between his lips. Then, for some odd reason, he picked up a clean pair of forceps and held them, too, over the lighter flame.

“What?”

“You don’t exactly look like a nurse.”

Agron took a surprisingly shallow drag from the cigarette. “And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he asked, eyes darkening as he slowly exhaled the smoke and then held out the joint for Nasir to take, before going back to his strange forceps warming ritual.

_Well, let’s see, you are like a nine-foot-tall brick house of a man, for starters. You don’t exactly fit the uniform, if you know what I mean. Not that you wouldn’t look good in a uniform, mind you. Or in scrubs, for that matter. Or out of them. Possibly. Probably…_

Nasir groaned and gave himself a mental slap as he inhaled another lungful, hoping against hope that whatever drug it contained, pot or otherwise, would be enough to straighten him out. This was not the time or the place. And definitely _not_ the man. He pried his eyes away from Agron’s lips as the man suddenly sucked on a finger he had held too close to the flame.

“As far as I know, nurses don’t take recreational drugs in the middle of a procedure,” he answered finally.

Agron flicked his eyes back to him and there was a hint of a smile creeping up his lips again – though far more self-satisfied than before. “It’s not recreational, and it’s not for my benefit,” he said matter-of-factly, plucking what was left of the joint from Nasir’s hand, ignoring the look Nasir was giving him. He then stumped the butt of the cigarette in a makeshift ashtray on the counter. “Think of it as a distraction.”

And then without any warning, the now searing hot metal ends of the forceps found their way into the still open wound on Nasir’s upper arm, and his heart exploded in his chest.

The first scream was a guttural mixture of random vowels, loud enough to pierce Nasir’s own ears, and it took him some time to actually comprehend where the noise was even coming from. The burning in his throat gave him the answer soon enough, though. After the worst wave of pain had subsided, Nasir was reduced to whimpering curses in Arabic, but that really wasn’t a good sign either, because he never cursed in Arabic. Never.

The air was heavy with pot smoke and the smell of burning flesh, and Nasir could feel the bile rising in the back of his throat. He tried his best to swallow it back down, but the taste lingered. Vodka and cheeseburger. Lovely.

“I didn’t lose you yet, did I?”

Nasir waited for his heart-beat to slow down before he opened his eyes again. His glare was now as openly hostile as it had ever been. He was done shooting daggers and had moved on to machetes. Cleavers would be next.

“Good. Here, take these. You’re probably due for another dose, anyway.”

Nasir looked at the two pills the man was holding in front of his lips, and then he looked up at the man’s face again.

“Painkillers,” Agron answered automatically. “Look, since I don’t own any actual heavy-duty anesthetics, Vicodin’s the best I can do.” He shrugged as if this was all common medical practice. “Oh, and sorry about the whole burning thing, but I really needed to stop the bleeding. Trust me.”

Their eyes locked for a moment as they tried to stare the other down, engaging in a battle of wills of some sort, or better yet, a twisted game of chicken. The rules undetermined.

Agron’s gaze was unwavering but far less steely than Nasir’s, and there was a detectable warmth in there as well, amidst all that murky green. And Nasir was starting to feel his resolve slowly crumbling.

He really should have been tougher than this – even with the meds he was under – and not let it get to him, but he was sure he’d never seen green eyes quite like these before. They were the color of a muddy pond where the water has been standing a little too long, leaving algae growing on the surface. So none of that emerald shit that you always hear about. No, not emerald or jade or sapphire, this green was dirty and cloudy – a cesspool, not a gemstone.

Without exaggeration, they were the most beautiful eyes Nasir had ever seen.

In the end, it was Agron who blinked first, but somehow Nasir was still the one who wound up losing the fight. And probably something else as well along the way. His mind, most likely.

He lifted his head, trying to prop himself up with his good arm as well as he could and opened his mouth and sighed defeated, trying not to dwell too much on the feel of the other man’s fingers on his lips. With the tablets already halfway down his throat, he then reached for the glass of water beside him, suddenly realizing just how thirsty he was. His throat was so dry, he was practically coughing up mothballs.

“And that’s vinegar.”

The following spit take landed mostly on the bigger man’s red shirt, but Nasir really didn’t give a shit at this point. If anything, he was glad as hell; served him right. He reached for the bottle of vodka next, raising an eyebrow at Agron who nodded in response before quickly going back to wiping the vinegary spit off the hem of his t-shirt. Nasir then proceeded to take as big a mouthful of the stuff as he could, hoping to wash out the bitterness off his tongue. He put the bottle back on the table before collapsing on the same surface himself, letting his head fall back and his eyes close, as the velvety cool liquid made its way down his throat. The dark and oh-so-precious void of unconsciousness followed soon after, and this time he didn’t even try to escape it.

  



	4. Chapter 4

Agron placed the Absolut back in the freezer and walked out of the kitchen, pulling his shirt over his head as he went. Not that the stain was that noticeable anymore to be honest, but he didn’t really have the inclination to smell like pickled onions for the rest of the day, either. The red piece of clothing finally landed in a crumpled heap in the bedroom corner, which was as close to a hamper as it was going to get today. Agron then continued his way to the bathroom and bent over the sink and ducked his head down under the tap, flinching only slightly when the cold water hit his skin.

He proceeded to wash his face and then shook the water off his short hair the best he could, before reaching back for the towel hanging from the door. He dried his face, rubbing the cotton on his skin with a little more force than necessary, and then turned to his topless reflection. He grabbed the sides of the cracked porcelain basin, leaned on his hands and finally looked up in the mirror.

Spit on his clothes and blood on his hands and it was barely afternoon. Not to mention a random unconscious guy downstairs.

_Just like back in the good old days, huh? Right, Nurse Agron?_

He could practically hear his brother snorting as he spoke, and Agron couldn’t help but give a wry smile in return, even as he tried his best to chase the voice out of his ears. He shook his head and groaned in frustration, both at the man in his head and at the man staring back at him in the mirror – and hey, why not at that goddamn man downstairs, too. He was the cause of Agron’s headache today, after all.

After another second or two of uselessly staring and frowning at his own reflection, Agron turned to walk back into the living room, grabbing another t-shirt from the top of the bed on the way out. He dressed as he walked, and was out of the apartment in no time, jogging down the stairs as the door closed somewhere behind him. He only stopped once he reached the landing and the entrance to the store area. He pushed the handle gingerly and opened the heavy oak door as slowly as he could, trying his best to keep the inevitable creaking to a minimum.

The room appeared to be exactly the way he had left it, every book and piece of furniture in place, not that he had been really keeping count, but still. Even the monstrous glass and gold lamp-thingy was still hanging from the ceiling – barely, as always – although that one Agron would not have necessarily lost any sleep over.

So far so good.

He kept standing in the doorway for a moment longer after his initial inspection. He looked around once more and even strained his ears, but there was nothing suspicious to be seen or heard, only the low buzz of the electric fan standing in the corner and the movement of the nearby sheer white curtain that danced a little every time the propellers came its way. Nice and quiet and void of any unwanted visitors. Well, bar one of course.

Agron sighed to himself and carefully closed the door behind him, the ancient hinges obliging him for once. He walked further into the room and glanced over at the counter where the younger man was still lying. On his side where Agron had left him. And he seemed to be breathing still, which Agron concluded to be a good sign, at least for the medical professional part of him. The other part however…

It wasn’t the first time today that Agron felt unsure about what exactly he had gotten himself in for here.

He knew it had been a mistake to get involved earlier. Should have just kept on walking like he had started to do and never looked back, that was the key to survival in this town. Everyone had their own shit to handle, so you only minded your own – maybe that of a friend if it came down to it, but not of a perfect stranger. You never looked out for a stranger in this town. Unless you had a fucking death wish or something.

_But you did look back, didn’t you, you stupid fuck? You just had to look back._

Yeah, he just had to look back.

And now he was stuck here with a guy who was probably being hunted down by half the men in the city by now, when Agron’s plan had always been to lay low and as under the radar as possible.

He looked at the sleeping man again and wondered – not for the first time that day – whether the man even realized he had killed one of Le Boucher’s men. And if he’d know, whether that would mean anything to him. He had been spinning some line about being a tourist in the wrong place at the wrong time when Agron had first dragged him inside the store, that it was all just a mugging gone wrong. But that story was pretty much as plausible as Agron owning a vintage book store. Meaning, not very.

But again, Agron could just let that be, as little as he believed it. Let it be and not get involved, there was no reason to. Just walk away. Don’t look back.

Yes, he could do that.

He reached for the worn out carrier bag on the floor and lifted it up on one of the tables by the windows. He looked over his shoulder one more time to make sure the other man was still out cold, before he ran both zippers around the sides of the bag and spread the halves open on the table.

The content didn’t exactly come as a huge shock, although the array was more impressive than Agron had been expecting. So, definitely not a tourist then. Fuck. He had been sort of wishing he would have been wrong on this one.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk…”

Agron’s hand froze as he felt the hard metal being pressed against his back.

“Your mother never told you that it’s rude to go through other people’s things without permission?” 

The man’s voice had a melodic tone to it, Agron realized. It was something he hadn’t noticed before under all the cursing and moaning and screaming he had been doing. His accent was thicker now, too, and it wasn’t the put-upon, pitch-perfect American one he had been using earlier. Arabic probably, but the exact region was harder to pinpoint. Well, wherever it was from, Agron decided he liked it; it had a nice note to it, and even more than that, it sounded real. Whatever the hell that meant.

“My mother died when I was three.”

The pressure on his back eased slightly until finally disappearing completely, and Agron risked a look at the man now standing next to him. To his surprise he found him smiling. Well, that was…new. And not entirely unpleasant.

“You’re sure you want to use your sympathy card already? You only get one, you know that, don’t you?” 

“Even if it’s true?”

“Tough shit,” the man shrugged and tucked the gun back into the waist of his jeans. “So, should I take that as a yes to the sympathy-part?” 

Agron kept watching him from the corner of his eye as he finally relaxed his hand back on the canvas edge of the bag. “You’re not going to shoot me, then? You have enough here to do it a few times if you wanted to.”

“Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to do me a favor. Might need to keep you alive for that.”

Agron raised an eyebrow, and the man continued. “I need to go meet a friend, and it would be easier if I didn’t have to lug this thing around,” he gestured towards the bag, “You wouldn’t mind, if I…”

“You want to leave it here?” Agron asked a little taken aback. “But aren’t you worried I might just run off with it or something? Use up all your ammo?”

The smaller man looked up from the table and smiled. And fucking hell did the man know how to smile.

“And since when have nurses gone around gunning people? Don’t you leave all the actual work to the doctors?”

And just like that Agron was back from wanting to kiss the man to wanting to strangle him again.

“Anyway, you sort of saved my life here,” the other man continued, ignoring Agron’s glare, “Well, my arm at least, so I might as well trust you a little bit. Plus, you’ve already had ample time to do all those things if you…” 

Ah,  _Syrian_ , that’s what it was, Agron thought to himself suddenly as the man kept on talking. So no wonder it had sounded familiar. Though, he really should have picked that up sooner. He had been letting things go lately, hadn’t he? And he used to be so cocky about his ear for accents. He probably should start pract...

Whoa…back up….what?

“You’re Syrian?”

The man stopped talking and looked at Agron, frowning in confusion.

“Well, more Spanish now, I guess, but–”

“No, no, I mean…” He tried to keep the panic-slash-awe in his voice to a minimum. “You’re _the_ Syrian?” 

Well, if this wasn’t the last thing Agron needed. Didn’t he have enough to deal with already? A rogue, vigilante assassin standing in the middle of his store was not exactly his idea of Wednesday afternoon entertainment.

The other man laughed a little nervously, or maybe that was just Agron’s imagination.

“ _The_ Syrian? Well, isn’t that a bit…grand? There must be more than one of us, surely.” But he wasn’t really convincing anyone. Well, not Agron anyway.

“But you are, aren’t you?” Agron let go of the bag and took an instinctive step backwards. “ _El Sirio_. Jesus fucking Christ.”

The name definitely caused a reaction, no matter how much the man tried to hide it.

“You’re jumping into conclusions, Agron. Just because I happen to be from Syria doesn’t mean anything. I’m sure I cannot be the only Syr–”

“With a bag full of guns, running around killing drug traffickers?”

This seemed to be enough for the other man, as his posture practically deflated in front of Agron’s eyes. It was as clear a concession as any, to be honest, and he never needed to say the words. Not that he would have anyway.

“I’m looking for someone called Le Boucher, do you know him?”

Agron raised another eyebrow at that.

“I know _of_ him, sure. Everybody here does. It’s kind of hard to avoid since the man’s running the biggest cartel around. Well, that and everything else…at least in this town.” He stopped there, not feeling the need to extrapolate further.

“But not enough to know where I might find him?”

Agron kept staring at him with widening eyes. Okay, so obviously the man had issues, but Agron hadn’t realized just  _how_ insane he was. 

“I hope you’re not thinking of taking him on by yourself. He’s basically got his own fucking army for god’s sake.”

The other man practically hissed at the comment. “Thanks for the concern, man, but I don’t really need your advice on this, trust me.”

Agron shook his head.

“You may be good at what you do…hell, you could be the best, but you would be going against a small country. That’s fucking madness.”

“Maybe…but it’s still something I need to do.” 

His voice had lost most of its edge, but there was still something there that told Agron this particular part of the conversation would be over. Not that he had any great interest in continuing; if the guy wanted to go on a suicide mission, he was more than welcome to as far as Agron was concerned. That was his business, not Agron’s.

The silence that had descended in the room was finally broken by the sound of the adhān being called from the minaret some blocks away. Agron saw the younger man reflexively look up to the blind-covered windows.

“I better go.”

“Where? To mosque?” Agron asked stupidly. The mood was changing again, he realized. They had already gone from taunting to anger to silence in the span of a few minutes, and now they seemed to be on their way back to something lighter again.

The man looked back, his eyes wide and innocent enough, although the expression was soon betrayed by the budding smirk on his lips. “Of course, where else? I am a very religious person.” He emphasized the sentiment by making a haphazard sign of the cross in Agron’s general direction. “See? Never miss a prayer.”

“That’s the wrong religion, I think.”

The man shrugged and started to put his jacket back on, cringing a little as he lifted it over his right shoulder. “I like to cover my bases. An equal opportunity sinner, you know what I mean?”

Yeah, Agron had an idea.

“Anyway, does it really matter, same shit different label, right?” He tied his hair back in a ponytail and walked past Agron and towards the front door.

“That’s a bit blasphemous for a self-proclaimed religious man, don’t you think?” Agron retorted, trying to fight the pull of a grin that was threatening his lips as he watched the man turn around.

“Newsflash: I might’ve lied about that. It happens.” 

“You don’t fucking say?”

It was starting to get a little worrying how much Agron was enjoying this; on top of everything else, he didn’t even know the man’s name and probably never would. Though, he figured that just for his own safety, it was probably better to keep it that way. The less he knew, the less reason Boucher had to be breaking his fingers for information – or other body parts for that matter.

“And you’re still okay with my…stuff being here?” The man cocked his head towards the bag still lying on the table.

“Yeah, why not. Never had a famous person in my bookstore before, anyway. It’s all a little exciting.” He refrained from referencing any movies, which was a good sign that his brain was at least half working, then. 

The man bit down a smile and climbed the three steps that lead up to the door. He was ready to grab the door handle when Agron suddenly continued, “How’s the shoulder, by the way?”

His hand seemed to instinctively go and rub the bandaged area, and he looked pensive for a moment before meeting Agron’s eyes.

“Better.” The word came out a little reluctantly, but there was a ghost of a smile on his lips when he finally turned away. And then he turned right back around again. “I never thanked you for that, did I?”

The question caught Agron off guard. Now, for whatever reason, the two of them seemed to be on slightly better terms now than before, but – after everything – Agron didn’t exactly have heightened expectations for social decorum between them, either. Not being on the wrong end of the man’s Sig Sauer was enough. But he answered with a shake of his head anyway.

“No?” The other man’s gaze strayed away for a second, and he nodded his head a few times as if he was seriously contemplating the issue before turning his attention back on Agron again, this time accompanied by a smile that probably would end up being as lethal as the contents of his bag. “Well…I will.”

And with that, he disappeared onto the street outside, leaving Agron alone in the middle of the empty store staring at the door closing behind him. There was a slight chance, he realized, that he would be standing there for a while still.


	5. Chapter 5

Nasir put the phone back in his pocket and kept walking until he reached the edge of the small square. He leaned against a nearby wall, enjoying what little shadow the building provided as he scanned the thin crowd. It didn’t take too long for his eyes to find what they had been searching for, and Nasir couldn’t help but smile to himself, no matter how inappropriate it was under the circumstances. He pushed himself off the wall and started towards the center of the square.

“What’s with the clothes? I thought the idea was for you to _not_ stand out,” he said, brushing his fingers gently on his friend’s shoulders. He walked around the bench behind her and then sat down next to the woman, who for some unfathomable reason was doing her best American tourist impersonation, shorts and baseball cap included.

To her credit, she didn’t seem to be at all surprised by the touch, let alone by Nasir’s sudden appearance. Instead, she just slid her sunglasses down her nose and looked at him over the rims with a familiar glint in her eyes. “So, you think that me sitting here in a djellaba would somehow be less conspicuous, huh? That sounds like a good plan, Holmes.”

Nasir rolled his eyes.

“I’m just saying those shorts and that t-shirt is not exactly the way to go. We’re not exactly in Marrakech, Chads, how many tourists do you think…” but his voice faded away as a group of middle aged white men in their shorts and polo shirts walked by, cameras around their necks and even goddamn matching sneakers on their feet. What the…

“You were saying, Teebo?”

Nasir glared at her, not only for looking so smug but also for that damn name she insisted on calling him. Now, they had agreed she would never call him by his actual name, but _Teebo_ was definitely not the name he had chosen.

“Tiberius,” he hissed, but she seemed as nonplussed as ever.

“So you keep saying... Anyway,” she continued cheerily, “they’re a canasta-slash-bowling group from Michigan, I hitched a ride with them from Casablanca. Lovely people, very friendly.”

Nasir could only shake his head in disbelief. He knew his friend had the luck of a leprechaun with a four-leaved clover standing under a rainbow, but this was ridiculous. Her looks and that angelic amount of strawberry blond hair probably had a lot to do with it, but still. He could only wish some of that luck would rub on him once in a while.

They sat in silence for a while, watching people coming and going, everyone doing their best to keep out of the most searing heat.

“So, what’s the news?” he finally asked, after having snatched the water bottle from her hands and quelling the thirst he had been harboring for what seemed a lifetime now. The vodka earlier hadn’t exactly been as helpful in this matter as he would have liked.

“Well…” she started, hiking the sunglasses up her nose and leaning back on the bench, “I heard there’s been a lot going on over here. I know you’ll be shocked to hear this, butapparently there was a big fire on the east side today.” She was smirking. “Some coffee place got nearly blown up. A gas leak...apparently...and no survivors. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Nasir huffed noncommittally. So, it seemed that Boucher had been keeping himself busy today, too. Then again, if he wanted to keep cleaning up after Nasir, then he was more than welcome to it.

“Just cut the crap, Chads, please,” he sighed. “Did you get the information we were talking about or…?”

“Not here.”

She got up abruptly and held out her hand to Nasir, who took it, even if a little hesitantly, and followed his friend away from the center of the square where they had been sitting. They passed the mosque and finally Chadara took the corner and then another, until they were standing alone on a quiet side-alley.

“Yeah, I got everything you wanted, Teebs, but you’re not going to like it.”

For once, he let the name pass, and concentrated on the more important issue at hand.

“When have you ever told me something I have actually liked? That’s not your job.”

She sighed and took off her sunglasses, revealing a pair of blue eyes that carried a note of worry in them Nasir had not really seen before in her. “I don’t think you know what you’ve gotten yourself in for here, babe. He’s not like the rest of them. This one’s a–”

“A bad man? A _very_ bad man?” Nasir filled in for her and gave out a hollow laugh. “How long have we been on this, Chadara? I’m not exactly expecting it to be easy.”

“Couldn’t you just walk away?” There was desperation in her voice that hadn’t been there before, just like the fear in her eyes. “You’ve done enough, don’t you think? For your brother, for your family, for everybody. You don’t have to go after Boucher anymore.”

Nasir was puzzled by the sudden change of tone from his friend, and now he was getting irritated as well. “But he’s the whole fucking point!” He realized he had raised his voice, so he quieted down, happy that they were standing on the side street and not in the middle of the square anymore. There was no one here to pay his outburst much attention. “ _He_ is the only reason I am doing this,” he continued in a softer voice, “His people killed Dad and Rasha and took my brother away. I can’t back down now. Not when I am this close.”

Chadara shook her head, but didn’t say anything more, which Nasir took as a sign of concession on her part.

“So tell me, what do I need to know?”

It only took her a second to slip into professional mode again.

“Well, it’s a big operation, as you know, multinational,” she began quickly. “He’s the head of Northeast-African trade with a few wannabes working straight under him. Like Glaber, you know him, right?” Nasir nodded. “They have locations all around the coast, but the place here is quickly becoming the new base of operations. And it’s not just drugs. There’s guns, people…”

This had Nasir look up, his expression matching the one on his friend’s face.

“Children?”

She nodded silently, and then continued, “He’s taken over one of the mines about 30 miles from here. They use it to basically store everything they're selling, and it’s really hush-hush, believe me. Like military grade. No one knows about the company changing hands, not even the workers. They've just shut off half the mine for their own use, and the rest works as normal. I only learned about it by total accident when I was hacking into their IC and then put two and two together. As you do.”

She paused for a moment and gave a satisfied smile, but it quickly faded again when she continued. “But the whole place is armed and manned like a fortress, Tee. It’s impossible to get in. And even if you could…”

“There’s more?” Nasir looked at Chadara in disbelief. What more could there be?

“By now he basically owns half the town. You go after him, it’s not just him you got to watch out for. His men are everywhere.” She waved her hand around theatrically. “In the cafés, restaurants, bookstores, bakeries…It’s just too…” She sighed again, grabbing his arm. “It’s too much, babe. You can’t do this alone, and I…I’m not going to go there with you. Not that it would make much difference, but still. You would be on your own. I love you, but I’m not going to die today. Not out here and not for this shit. Not even if it’s your shit.” She paused and cringed at the last sentence. “You know what I meant.”

Nasir tried to feel angered by Chadara’s sudden change of heart, but he couldn’t really muster the outrage. How could he ask her to sacrifice anything else, when she’d already done so much for him? And it wouldbe a suicide mission anyway, by the sounds of it. Well, it was going to be his funeral, not hers.

He took her hand in his and gave it a comforting squeeze. There was a thought at the back of his mind nagging him, something about what she had just said, but his brain couldn’t quite get to it yet. Then again, much of what she had said should be bothering him, to be honest, the mention of armed men, fortresses, human trade, owning the restaurants and the bakeries and the…

Suddenly his blood ran cold only to heat up to a boiling point in a matter of seconds. He let go of Chadara’s hand and took a step back, before hitting his fist straight into the brick wall on the side of the alley.

Fuck.

Fucking, motherfucking fuck.

“What’s going on? Tee?” Chadara’s voice pulled Nasir from his rage for a second, and he turned to his friend who was looking back with wide eyes. “I’m so sorry hun, I know I’m letting you down, but…”

He interrupted her with a quick gesture. “It’s not you,” he said sharply trying to control his voice, “It’s me. I’ve been a fucking moron today, and I…” He started pacing across the narrow alleyway, massaging the bruised knuckles on his right fist… “You said something about bookstores earlier, what did you mean?”

If there was one thing Nasir could always rely on, it was the fact that Chadara rarely questioned his requests, no matter how strange they sounded. And so, this time as well, she was quick to answer, even though she was still looking at him suspiciously.

“Well, it just caught my eye on the list, the bookstore here, that is. I mean, this is not exactly a booming market for old English literature, right?”

“The list?”

“The list of companies that have a financial agreement with Boucher. Well, his business front, anyway. I guess, if you’re selling Shakespeare in the middle of the desert, you’re going to need all the help you can get,” Chadara added and laughed. “Does it matter? I checked the manager out. He’s a nobody, just a random German guy with squeaky clean papers who just started running the place. No ties to anything else. I’m sure he’s just one of those ignorant idiots who think it’s ‘fascinating’ to come live and work somewhere so ‘exotic’, right?”

But Nasir was barely listening anymore as his hands clenched into fists again, and he had to fight the urge to assault more stone surfaces. He had been _that_ close today, right there _in_ the bookstore. He could have used the man for information, used him to get closer to his target, but instead he had been distracted…God, he had actually let himself be distracted from his mission by…He couldn’t even bring himself to think about it. He was an idiot, a fucking idiot.

He leaned his back and head against the wall and closed his eyes. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself down, before he looked at Chadara again and smiled weakly. Hey, at least he was trying.

“No, it doesn’t really matter, Chadara. It just seems that I missed my chance earlier today.” He smiled wryly. “But I’ll get it back, don’t worry.”

He straightened his back and stepped away from the wall with a deep sigh. “So, do you have any plans then, after you get out of this place? You should travel, Chads, you’ve always said you wanted to. And I mean somewhere else than around the Mediterranean following me.”

His oldest friend kept looking at him for a moment longer, concern and doubt intermingling in her eyes, before she finally gave up and smiled in return. “I _was_ thinking Rio again, actually. You know, with the sun and the sea and the good-looking men…Are you sure I couldn’t tempt you to come with me?” She smiled wider and winked at Nasir who smiled back but still shook his head.

“You know I can’t,” he said quietly.

“I know, I know,” she sighed. “But it would be good, wouldn’t it? You and me, eating shrimp and drinking caipirinhas and checking out all the guys…Forget all about th–”

It happened in a split second: one moment Nasir was listening to Chadara speak, the next she was lying on the ground, a knife lodged in her chest. All Nasir could do then was to drag her limp body with him behind the trash containers further back in the alley, trying his best to keep them both dry from the sudden shower of knives raining on them as he moved.

Once they reached their temporary shelter, Nasir stopped to check his magazine and then took a moment to also check on Chadara who was now lying beside him, half of her body sprawled over his lap. It didn’t take him too long to realize – as much as he didn’t want to – what had happened. All he needed was one look at the lifeless, unfocused eyes and the small dribble of blood running down from the side of her mouth. He shook her shoulder repeating her name, but it was more a reflex from him than anything else, he knew it wouldn’t serve any real purpose.

The knives still kept coming, and Nasir tried to find a better opening between the dumpsters to shoot from, but his position made all aiming more or less impossible. Also, there _were_ the two knives sticking out of his arms that forced his hands to stay lower than would have been preferable. With his last strength, he pulled the blades out, watching in somewhat indifference at the blood gushing out of the wounds. The pain he had already gotten used to.

If he wanted to stay alive, he needed to get the hell out of the alley, this much he knew. And so with a heavy heart he gently brushed his palm over Chadara’s face, closing her eyes, and crawled out of their hideout, trying to keep the attacker in his sight as he started running away, his gun now nearly slipping from his loosening grip.

Then another knife hit him straight into his left shoulder, and Nasir could feel it burying deeper than the other ones had. This time the pain cut through, and he all but stumbled on his feet as a result. He did his best to stagger into an opening in the thick stone wall, hoping it would cover him enough to give him a moment to get the feeling back in his legs while he pulled the knife from his back. At this point, his left arm was pretty much useless and his right one wasn’t faring that much better, still recovering from the bullet wound from earlier. In other words, he was screwed.

That only meant there was one more thing left to do. The only thing. He had to screw right back.

He used his right hand to force his left hand fingers around the gun and then watched slightly alarmed as the metal started shaking in front of him. He could only hope that he had enough strength to pull the trigger. He would only get one chance, after that it wouldn’t really matter – one of them would be dead anyway.

He held his breath.

There were footsteps coming towards him, gradually closing the distance between them. Sweat and blood were trickling down Nasir’s back in equal measures, and he had to fight to stay conscious and breathing. The gun in his hands was now shaking even more violently than before, and it took him every effort to keep the weapon even moderately steady against a wall.

The other man was so close now, only a few feet away, Nasir could hear his labored breathing to where he was standing. A drop of sweat made its way down his forehead and in his eye, making him blink, and he had to fight the urge to just keep his eyes closed. The chances of him getting out of this alive were starting to get slimmer and slimmer.

“Il est là! Tuez-le! Shoot him, the son of a bitch! Kill him now!”

Suddenly a deafening noise filled Nasir’s ears, the sound of a gun firing ricocheting from one wall to the other in the narrow alleyway. And then, just as quickly as it had started the attack was over, and the street was quiet again. The silence almost as deafening now as the noise had been before.

Nasir could feel every muscle in his body tense as he heard more footsteps coming his way, this time from the other direction. One or probably two men, and they were getting closer. Nasir pressed his back flat against the wall and waited, listening to the feet on the gravel. They were heading straight towards him, and Nasir braced himself for the inevitable, still gripping the gun in his sweat slick hands. But to his great surprise the feet kept on walking past the doorway he was hiding in, and it was starting to look like the men might not even have an idea he was there. They were talking to each other in tempered tones.

“Et la fille?”

“Leave her. She’s no use for us now.”

Nasir could only look on as the two men soon returned in his line of sight, this time dragging a lifeless bulky body of a dark-haired man behind them, leaving a trail of blood on the ground.

It was only long after he had heard the car doors opening and closing and the car starting up and driving away that he was finally able to let out the breath he had been holding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Il est là! Tuez-le!” = “He is there! Kill him!”  
> “Et la fille?” = “And the girl?”


	6. Chapter 6

Agron turned the last corner on his way back to the bookstore, the handle of the plastic bag was cutting into his fingers and he adjusted his grip. He took a moment to look at the street in front of him, trying to scout out any unwanted visitors, but the street was empty, so he continued straight towards the door, jangling the keys in his hand as he walked.

He had the door opened, hand still on the handle, when he felt the metal pressing against his back. Again. That was twice today already – he was definitely losing his touch. He sighed a little and stepped inside the store coaxed by his companion behind him. The heavy door creaked as it slowly closed after them.

“You work for him, don’t you?”

Agron was still facing away from the intruder, but somehow the familiar voice didn’t exactly come as a surprise.

“I thought we did this already,” he replied. It wasn’t an answer to the question, he knew, but it was the most he was going to indulge the other man at this point. He was getting pretty damn tired being held at gunpoint every time they talked.

He felt the gun being pulled back and took the opportunity to slowly and carefully turn around to face the smaller man. Agron might not have been surprised by it being him, but the state of the man did come as a bit of a shock, if Agron was honest. It wasn’t like he had been in pristine condition when they had parted, but now the man resembled a human sieve more than anything. The black leather of his jacket was even blacker, wet and sticky with the blood that had been drizzling through the rips in the fabric.

“Just cut the bullshit, okay. I don’t have fucking time for this. You know Le Boucher, he pays for you to keep this shitty piece of business running. You should have told me earlier, would have saved me a lot of trouble...and now, you.”

Agron let out an involuntary snort at the threat before he was able to catch himself. “You do realize I could probably snap you in half, right, little man?”

But as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized that taunting probably had not been the wisest course of action, as the barrel of the gun still in the other man’s shaky grip quickly rose and pressed deep into the skin under his chin.

“Just as easily as I could blow your brains out, asshole.”

His hand was shaking but Agron was pretty sure the man would be able to carry out the threat anyway, so he decided on a different strategy.

“I told you, Boucher runs everything around here. If you want to stay in business in this town, you deal with him. It doesn’t mean you have to like it, but there’s no other option.”

“There are always other options.” The younger man’s voice was cold as ice.

Agron shook his head. “Look, it’s not always that black and white–”

“He sells children just for his own amusement. You’re happy funding that shit, are you?”

His hand was shaking so bad now that the barrel was starting to hit against Agron’s jawbone.

“If that’s what you think of me, then you might as well shoot me now. I don’t think your arm is going to take much more anyway.”

The man glared up at him, his dark eyes burning. Then suddenly his arm dropped to his side as he stumbled backwards, clearly trying to keep himself from falling down on the floor. Agron reached out a steadying hand, but it was shoved away.

“What happened to you anyway? You weren’t quite this bad when you left.”

The man took his time to get his balance back before his eyes returned to Agron’s, and the look in them was as murderous as before, probably even more so. He took hold of a nearby bookshelf to keep himself upright, the gun still tightly in his grip.

“Like you don’t know,” he spat. Agron could only look at him with widening eyes.

“No, I don’t know.”

“You...” The man tried to catch his breath, his speech becoming more sporadic by the second. “You told him where I was. At the mosque. They tried to...” A dark cloud passed before his eyes and he shook his head. “They killed Ch...my friend. The closest thing to a family I’ve had since...” He paused again and then gave out a wry laugh. “Well, since they killed my actual family. And you sent them there, and now she’s dead.” 

Agron kept his eyes on the gun.

“I’m sorry about your friend,” he started, forcing his voice to stay calm. “But I never told anybody anything about you.”

“So they just happened to catch me exactly at the spot I told you about?”

“It’s not that big a town, a stranger is not that difficult to pick out over here.”

The other man was about to give another counter argument, but then his legs suddenly gave out from under him, and he fell to the floor. The gun slipped from his hand and was now resting on the floor between the two of them. Agron hesitated but then took a tentative step forward. When the other man didn’t seem to be making more threatening gestures, he felt confident enough to close the distance between them and offered his hand. Why he still felt the need to help the man was beyond him, but there you go.

“We might as well get those cuts of yours looked at while you’re here,” he said matter-of-factly, his hand still outstretched. “You can always shoot me later when you get the feeling back in your arms.”

The lighter tone might have been a gamble, but it ended up giving him the results he had been looking for. The other man scoffed in response but this time didn’t put up a fight when Agron grabbed a hold of his arm and pulled him up from the floor.

“Don’t think I trust you,” he mumbled as he scrambled to his feet and stumbled his way towards the back end of the store and the counter there.

“Good, that makes us even,” Agron said, picking up the gun that now lay discarded on the floor. He turned it around in his hand a few times before he tapped the other man on the shoulder with its handle. “Here. The day you’ve had, you’ll need it more than I do.”

His head whipped around quickly, and he looked up at Agron genuine surprise flashing in his eyes, and then there was a hint of something else there as well, but it was a look Agron had a harder time reading. It disappeared soon enough, though, and the scowl was back when he took the gun from Agron’s hand and posited it back in the waist of his jeans.

The action clearly took more effort than it should have, and Agron saw that the man’s knees were close to buckling again, so he pushed him gently against the counter, hoping that it would be enough to steady him. He kept eyeing the man’s weakened form with concern, where that concern was coming from, again, Agron had no idea. It must have been the professional side of him; he definitely had no personal interest in mothering a known criminal who used every given opportunity to shove a gun in his face.

“Have you eaten anything today?”

The smaller man was in the process of gingerly taking off his jacket when Agron spoke, and again something seemed to briefly take him off guard. He stopped what he was doing to look at Agron, but this time, instead of a scowl, there was a hint of a tired smile on his lips.

“It’s been a long day,” he answered as he continued to take off the jacket, slowly revealing the extent of his injuries and making Agron frown deeper.

“You probably should get something in you.” 

And then for a split second it looked like the other man bit his lip to stifle a smile. But then again, maybe it was just a yawn.

“I was just at the market,” Agron continued and pointed at the plastic bag at his feet, “And I’m sure there’s something else in the kitchen if you’d like.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have Oreos, would you?” the man asked at the same time as he tried his best to maneuver himself up on the countertop. By now, Agron knew better than to try and offer him a lift.

“Oreos? Like the cookie?”

“Yeah, the cookie,” the man murmured in response as he finally settled down on the counter, and it even sounded like he was chuckling a little.

“Uh, I don’t think I...It’s not exactly the kind of stuff I eat to be honest. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever even had one.”

_Yes, Agron. The world clearly needed to know more about your fucking cookie-eating habits_ , he chided himself, but somehow his companion only seemed further entertained by the knowledge.

“Never? Man you should try them, they’re the best. Haven’t had one in a while, though. The last place I stayed in didn’t exactly have a distributor.”

Agron raised an eyebrow and risked a follow-up question.

“And where would that be?”

The man opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again as if suddenly realizing what he was about to do. Silence resumed for a heartbeat, until Agron decided to fill the void, saying that he was sure he could probably rustle up some crackers if he dug deep enough into the cupboards. But the offer was quickly dismissed by a wave of a shaky hand.

At that moment, a car door opened and closed outside on the street. It was near enough to be heard inside the store, which was a good indicator that the car was parked close to the front door. And that could only mean one thing.

Thinking on his feet, Agron quickly shoved the other man off the counter and behind it, just in time before the front door opened. He lifted the grocery bag on the table, hiding the smudges of blood under it, and pretended to go through its contents as he watched two men walk in. Glaber and that lap-dog of his, Ashur. Fuck. Agron’s day just kept getting better and better.

“Busy as always, Mr. Kölner?”

Agron put on the fakest smile he could muster.

“What can I say? It’s not the season for vintage literature, I guess.”

Glaber walked forward, eyeing the room as he came towards Agron. Ashur, the shorter and stockier one of the two stayed behind, standing guard by the door.

“So, anything interesting happening here?” Glaber flashed Agron a toothy smile.

Agron’s eyes traveled between the two men, and then he finally let the forced smile on his own face fade. “I’m guessing you’re not here for the Jane Austin collection, so maybe we could hurry this along and skip the fucking chit-chat, okay?”

Glaber cocked his head to one side and looked at Agron amused, his smile slowly turning into a smirk. “Now, now, Mr. Kölner, that’s no way to treat a potential customer,” he sneered, “No surprise you’re not getting more business. Also, if I were you, I’d keep in mind that the boss might not be too keen to hear you using that tone of voice with me.”

Agron had little time for the likes of Glaber, let alone his idle threats, and so he grabbed the bag on the counter and made to lift it. “Look, I’ve got to get this stuff in the fridge, so if this is all you–”

“I’m looking for someone,” Glaber said, interrupting him. Evidently the need for small talk had passed for him as well. “You must have seen the news of the shooting behind Alito’s by now? A young tourist, robbed and killed right by the restaurant.” He shook his head in apparent disappointment. “It is in the community’s best interest to get hold of the perpetrator as soon as possible, before we have a PR nightmare on our hands. So, seen any strangers around here today? All help would be appreciated.”

Agron put on his best skeptical face. “Boy, you must be pretty desperate if  _you’re_ going door to door with this. Isn’t that a job for the police?”

“This one’s special,” Ashur’s voice came from the door, and Glaber did his best to glare him quiet. The exchange didn’t go unnoticed by Agron.

“Special how?”

Glaber didn’t seem inclined to answer, but thankfully Ashur didn’t have his boss’s restraint

“A big fish. Everyone’s looking for him, not just the police.”

“Could you shut the fuck up for a minute, idiot,” Glaber growled at his companion then turned to Agron, his face still red from clear irritation. “What he means is, the man’s dangerous. I would advise you to tell me now if you have any idea where he might be. For your own good, of course, you understand.”

Glaber was walking closer to the back of the store and Agron had to make a conscious effort not to instinctively move and give away anything. He heard a faint sound coming from behind the counter, probably the safety being pulled back. Thankfully Glaber seemed to be none the wiser, but Agron decided to speak a little louder anyway, just in case.

“What do you thing this place is? It’s an old bookstore, not exactly a haven for harboring criminals.”

The other man stopped moving around and looked at Agron in silence, eyes narrowed. “For your sake, I hope you are telling the truth. I could make your life pretty uncomfortable, if I caught you lying.”

Agron had to laugh. “More uncomfortable than this?”

But Glaber wasn’t done yet. “I think we’re both aware of certain things about your good self that, were they to get out, might make things difficult for you around here, don’t we now?”

Agron could hear Ashur snorting out loud at the comment and winced inwardly, but kept his reaction to himself. There was one reason and one reason only why Agron had gone this long without killing anyone in this town, and he tried his hardest now to keep that reason in mind. But keeping his temper under control wasn’t exactly a strong suit, and his patience was wearing thin. And he knew he probably was supposed to be threatened by Glaber’s words, but the problem for Glaber was that Agron wasn’t so easily intimidated. It is hard to threaten a man who has little in this life left to lose.

Mostly, Agron was just royally pissed off.

“Planning a public flogging, are you?” 

“I’m sure it could be arranged.” 

Glaber still seemed dead set on getting the appropriate reaction from Agron, irritated by his lack of one. He would have to try a shitload better than that, though.

“Well, you do that. But in the meanwhile, could I go and put this beef in the fridge? Bilal sold me his best cut. I’d hate for it all to go to waste, especially if it’s going to be my last meal and all. And you know how much I like my meat.”

Agron winked.

Glaber looked at him for a while longer, apparently weighing the situation in his head, but then he seemed to finally give in, visibly resigned in the face of Agron’s non-reaction.

“And you’re sure you haven’t seen anything?”

Agron sighed, looking at the man straight in the eye. “I have no reason to fucking lie to you, now do I? I don’t know this guy from Adam. He’s nothing to do with me, he’s  _your_ problem. I promise I’ll keep my eyes open, but that’s about all I can do.”

The two other men kept standing in place for a moment, until finally Glaber shrugged his shoulders and turned towards the door, shoving Ashur along in front of him. “I’ll be seeing you around, Mr. Kölner.” he said over his shoulder as he made his way through the doorway, “Don’t try anything stupid in the meanwhile.”

Agron leaned back against the counter, letting out a deep breath as he watched the two men disappearing outside.

_Too late._


	7. Chapter 7

“Well, well, well...And this one’s perfectly straight. I guess it _is_ like riding a bike, after all.”

Nasir kept his eyes shut as the needle cut in and out of his skin in a steady pace. The pain was around, but he had been able to mostly block it out. His hair was still wet from the shower, and he was able to concentrate on the drops of water running down his bare back as a way to distract himself.

“This is going to sting, so prepare yourself.”

Nasir could feel something being poured on his wound and the liquid burned his skin. The pain was more intense than he had expected, and he opened his eyes, finding himself almost face to face with Agron, who was kneeling in front of the bed, all his attention on the cut on Nasir’s arm as he wiped off the excess disinfectant. He was a little too close for Nasir’s comfort, so he closed his eyes again.

“How’s it going?”

“I’ll tape these up, and then that’s the arms done.”

Nasir sensed the other man get up and walk away, and he risked opening his eyes again. Agron was standing by the dresser now, a few feet away, his back to Nasir.

“And how’s the pain? Bearable?” he asked over his shoulder, sounding genuinely concerned – a sentiment that still took Nasir by surprise.

“I’ll manage.” 

He still wasn’t quite sure what was going on between them. He had been so sure that Agron had been the one ratting him out to Glaber, but now he wasn’t certain at all. And why in hell was the man still helping him instead of just having chucked him out on the street when he had had the chance? There definitely were too many open questions here for Nasir’s liking.

“Can I ask you something?” he continued, keeping his eyes on the broad back in front of him.

Agron turned around, bandage and tape in hand. “Sure. What do you want to know?”

There was a smile on his face, but it seemed to be far more reserved now than it had been earlier in the day. He walked over and knelt back down in front of the bed. It also looked like he was making a conscious effort avoiding eye contact for some reason, concentrating on his task.

“Why are you doing this?” Nasir started, “I mean, why didn’t you just tell Glaber where I was and be done with it? Honestly, I’m pretty sure that’s what most people would have done. Less hassle.”

Agron kept working on the bandage and only looked up at him once he was done.

“They would have killed you,” he said matter-of-factly and turned to dress the wound on the other arm.

“So?” 

“Look, I know you think I’m this terrible person who launders money and makes deals with child traffickers, and whatever-the-fuck else, but I don’t actually want to see people tortured and killed for no reason. And definitely not by dumb and dumber back there. Rather keep those deaths to a minimum, if it’s up to me.”

Chadara’s ashen face flashed before Nasir’s eyes and he had to suppress a shudder.

Once Agron was done he looked at Nasir again, smiling a little wider this time. “Anyway, if I’d told them I’ve known about you all this time, what do you think they would have done to  _me_ ? Let me go with a warning? I don’t fucking think so. It was all very selfish actually.”

That was true, of course, although it didn’t exactly answer the question why he was still operating on Nasir’s knife wounds. Maybe he was just a very dedicated medical professional, then.

“And that thing he was talking about...Could he really...I mean, was he right about the–”

“The gay thing?" Agron frowned at him briefly and the smile on his lips started to fade. “It could be a problem if it got out, yes. Why? Does it bother you? That I’m gay?”

Nasir shrugged as best as he could with two messed up shoulders. “None of my business.”

This had Agron raising an eyebrow.

“And yet you asked.” He got up from the floor, and his smile took on a wryer edge. “The nurse thing makes more sense now, though, doesn’t it?”

Nasir knew that he had better change the subject for his own good if nothing else, but it seemed his mouth was not complying. “Why would you come and live here, then? I mean this place can’t exactly be the best for...”

Agron gave a little laugh while he kept rummaging around in the dresser drawers. “Well, I’m not here looking for a boyfriend, so I don’t think it matters that much one way or the other.”

Which begged the question...

“Why _are_ you here, then?”

Nasir could see the muscles on the bigger man’s back tense, and he seemed to be weighing the question for a moment before answering. Nasir readied himself for another made-up story.

“My brother,” Agron said quietly, and there was something in his tone that said he was telling the truth. “He...went missing. Assumed dead, you know? A lot went down after that and it was pretty messy, and I just had to get away for a while to clear my head. A family friend owned this place and needed someone to take care of it for a sabbatical, and it just seemed like too good an opportunity to miss. So, no more sinister than that, I’m afraid.”

The bit about the brother might have been true, but Nasir was sure the rest was not the whole story by a long shot. It was also clear that it was all he was going to get out of the other man, so he let the matter rest. He knew a thing or two about wanting to keep things close to his vest himself.

Agron’s hands were full again when he turned back to face Nasir. “But that’s enough about this gay’s soppy life story, let’s get back to business, shall we?” He gestured towards the bed with a freshly gloved hand. “Try getting on your stomach, if you can. I could do with an easier access.”

Nasir’s shock must have been visible on his face as the bigger man’s smirk was suddenly back in full force.

“For the cut on your shoulder. It’s easier to stich up if you’re horizontal.” He chuckled shaking his head and rolling his eyes. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to jump you.”

Little did he know, Nasir’s shock had much more to do with the images his brain had conjured up than anything else – or more precisely, his body’s reaction to those images. He was happy enough, though, to leave the other man with the impression that this was just a case of good old-fashioned gay panic. “Sorry, of course,” he mumbled and obediently laid down on the bed par Agron’s orders.

He was getting comfortable to the best of his abilities, bracing himself for the coming pain, when suddenly he felt the mattress bouncing beneath him. Then, to his horror, he felt the other man kneeling on the bed, one leg on either side of him. Surely, this was taking the joke a little too far.

“Wha...What are you doing?” His voice was barely audible, muffled by the bedding he had buried his face into, but Nasir didn’t trust himself to move. Agron, however, didn’t seem to be sensing his discomfort at all, sounding as nonplussed as ever when he leaned in over Nasir’s back, examining the wound on his shoulder. 

“Fuck. This one’s a doozy, a couple of inches at least. And almost as deep as it’s wide. This might take a while, sorry.” His breath felt hot on the bare skin as he spoke.

Nasir took a deep breath and shut his eyes. Agron was brushing his fingers along the edge of the wound, and it was like an electric shock going through him, but this time the jolt had very little to do with pain. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Nasir sensed the man on top of him leaning away again and he was about to sigh in relief, but the feeling was short-lived because the next thing he knew, there was something heavy – over 200 pounds worth of muscle, for example – resting on the back of his thighs. Breath hitched in his throat and he scrunched the sheet tighter in his fist.

“Hey now, I haven’t even started yet,” Agron said from somewhere above him, his voice calm and soothing. He brushed some hair away from Nasir’s neck to the other side, and Nasir knew the touch left a trail of goose bumps in its wake. “Ready?”

_No._

“Mmmh...”

“I’ll take that as a yes then, shall I?”


	8. Chapter 8

Nasir woke up slowly, taking in his surroundings as he carefully opened his eyes. He was still feeling a little fuzzy around the edges, but thankfully the worst of the grogginess was gone as well as the worst of the pain. He sat up on the bed with only some effort and looked around in the dimly lit room.

Evidently, the sun had gone down while he had been sleeping, and he could only make out the faint remnants of dusk outside through the two windows on the side wall. The room itself was dark and none of the lamps were on, but there was a sliver of light coming from the corridor. Nasir made a note of his two semi-automatics that were lying peacefully on one of the nightstands, and for a moment thought about grabbing one before venturing out of the room. But at the last minute – and despite everything he had ever been taught in his life – he decided against it, and for the first time in god knows how long, he voluntarily walked out of a room unarmed.

The small hallway was leading into the living room, and it was then that Nasir finally noticed the smell wafting in from the kitchen that most likely was close as well. He had a faint recollection of the place from earlier, but the details were still obscure; apparently he wasn’t at his most attentive when drugged and in pain and all but bleeding to death.

The further he walked, the more the smell of garlic and onions and grilled meat filled the air, and it didn’t take Nasir too long to realize he hadn’t had anything to eat since early that morning. His stomach was growling, aggravated further by the sensory teasing.

He walked into the doorway of the larger room, and took a look around.

The living room – also known as the only other room in the apartment – was sparsely furnished but still had a surprisingly lived-in feel to it. There was a small dining table on one side, a large, worn-out leather sofa on the other, and a few stacks of books leaning against the wall. A big abstract painting, too strange for Nasir’s taste, hung on one of the whitewashed stone walls and there was a threadbare Persian rug on the tile floor. A pair of boots stood next to the front door, as did the small kitchenette in the adjacent corner, made even smaller by the giant of a man occupying the space.

Agron was standing by the stove his back to Nasir, and try as he might, Nasir couldn’t help but notice the way his white t-shirt was clinging to his torso, or how his jeans, hanging infuriatingly low, clung to what looked like a pretty decently formed behind. Nasir suddenly thought that the man probably would be as good to eat as whatever he was preparing. And then just as swiftly the same thought was forcefully removed from his head.

_Not the time or the place for fuck’s sake, Nasir._

He took a steadying breath.

“That smells good.” He hoped it was casual enough of an opening.

Agron seemed a little startled as he turned around, but the surprise on his face was quickly replaced by the grin Nasir had already grown alarmingly accustomed to. Was it really only this morning that they had first met? That seemed unbelievable.

“I’m no chef, but I hold my own, I guess,” Agron said with feigned humility and then turned his attention back to the pan in front of him. “Come on in, I’m not going to bite.”

Nasir hesitated for a moment more, but finally walked into the room and towards the small corner of a kitchen. It was only then that he noticed the two sets of plates and wine glasses on the kitchen bar counter, and he stopped on his feet again. So the other man was having company over, which seemed a little odd considering he also only a minute ago still had a guy unconscious in the other room. But even odder was the fact that Nasir now felt a pang of disappointment at the thought.

“You’re expecting someone?” he asked, forcing to keep his tone light and conversational.

“Something like that.”

Suddenly Nasir felt bare and exposed, only dressed in his jeans and without his guns. As much as he had come to trust the other man, suspicion – as always – lingered like a bad smell. There was a heavy weight settling in the pit of his stomach, but he put it down to the slight paranoia he seemed to always carry around with him and nothing else. He quickly scanned the room for his carrier bag and the rest of his clothes. His shirt was probably almost unusable at this point, soaked in blood and with more holes in it than was necessary, but it would have to do for now. He could always splurge on another T tomorrow.

“I’ll get out of your hair, then. Um, you haven’t seen my clothes around, have you?”

“I’m not really that fussy over dress code, to be honest. And my hair is just fine, thank you.”

Nasir was still looking at his back in confusion, when Agron finally turned around to explain, skillet in hand. “That extra plate was meant for you, actually.”

Despite himself, Nasir suddenly felt a smile threatening to pull at the corners of his mouth.

“It _was_ meant for me?”

“Well I’ve been weighing whether or not I’d let you have a taste of this. Best steak you’ll ever eat. Wouldn’t want to waste it on someone who doesn’t appreciate it.”

Nasir was still staring at him, fighting a smile, and so the man finally just shrugged his shoulders in defeat.

“I guess you might as well join me now that you’re here,” he said, gesturing at one of the barstools. “But I’d appreciate it if you didn’t pull a gun on me this time. I’d like to at least eat my fucking dinner in peace.”

“I don’t have one on me.”

It was out of his mouth before he had a chance to catch himself.

Agron raised his eyebrows looking at him quizzically for a second, before his dimples arrived back on the scene. “How very trusting of you. But then I knew my charm would win you over in the end.” Their stare held for a second until Agron cleared his throat and quickly ducked his head and started dividing food on the two plates.

“I think I’m just delirious from the meds you gave me,” Nasir retorted, finding it impossible not to return the smile Agron was now trying to stifle by biting his lip. He hovered over the chair for a moment longer, and then he finally relented and sat down.

What the hell, he was hungry, the steak smelled divine, and he was chatting with the most gorgeous guy he’d laid his eyes on in months, maybe years. Why not enjoy it for a moment. He could just as well leave here an hour or two later, it wouldn’t make any difference. The day was wasted already as it was.

But thinking of the day he’d had made him think of Chadara, and he suddenly felt ill at ease over considering enjoying himself, when his friend was lying on a gurney in a hospital cold room.

Nasir had paid for her body to be transferred to Paris and buried there and, thankfully, the hospital staff had been surprisingly cooperative with the request. Probably they had just been happy to get the body and the paper work off their hands. Nasir had had to call in some favors, but it was the last and least thing he could do for her; he might have hated the city, but it was her favorite place in the world, and…

“Your friend... You knew her for a long time?”

The question startled him, and Nasir realized alarmed that he had been lost in thought long enough for Agron to notice. It was also more than a little disconcerting how the other man was able to read him that easily. It was strange; Agron didn’t even know his name or really anything about him except his profession of sort, but still he seemed to be more in tuned with him than anyone else had been in a long time – let alone a complete stranger.

Nasir shifted his gaze down to the plate in front of him, finding it easier to concentrate on the chateaubriand and green beans than on Agron’s face as he spoke.

“A little over ten years. We met in Paris when we were fifteen. We were...we became a family of sorts, I guess. Two kids on the street, more or less, so we learned to pull together.”

There were no follow up questions or commentary, Agron only pulled a chair across from Nasir on the other side of the narrow bar table and sat down. He poured them both a glass of red wine.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said in a solemn voice. “No one deserves to be killed by people like Glaber and fucking Ashur.” He practically had to spit out the two names. No love lost there.

“It was the man the Spanish sent, actually,” Nasir explained. He had recognized the tattoo on his arm when he’d watched his body being dragged away in front of him. “Glaber arrived later just as the guy was about to come after me and then ended up shooting _him_ down.” He took a bite of the steak. It was as good as advertised.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Agron said, snorting between mouthfuls and making Nasir look at him questioningly. “They actually killed the guy the syndicate sent to kill _you_?”

“I guess they thought it was me,” Nasir said, still not quite understanding the source of the amusement on the other man’s face.

“Well, first of all kudos to you for getting the attention of the top brass. That’s something.” He was still chuckling to himself, so Nasir raised an eyebrow in a silent question. The answer came quickly.

“Do you have any idea how deep in shit they are, once the syndicate gets a whiff of this? And since that shooting’s been headline news all night, that’s probably sooner rather than later.” He shook his head. “Not only are you still alive and well, but the stupid fucks actually ended up killing one of their _own_ men. And then they brought that poor bastard’s body to their boss, waiting for a prize. No wonder those assholes were so desperate to find you, they’ll be missing some digits by the end of the day, if not their heads.”

Finally, Nasir caught the hang of the situation and understood the implications. He found himself chuckling along; Chadara would have liked that. The woman had an even bigger appreciation for schadenfreude than Nasir himself did.

He then told Agron as much, but the man’s smile quickly faded and it seemed clear he was about to offer his condolences again, so Nasir quickly gestured him to stop.

“She knew what she was getting into, just like me. This isn’t our first gig, she’s been on this as long as I have.” He sighed and reached for the wine. “The only difference was, she was going to get out after today. But now, obviously, that will never...happen...”

Agron was nodding his head slowly as he kept looking back at him, and his stare was suddenly too intense for Nasir and he had to look away. Thankfully, his plate was a convenient distraction. He popped another piece of steak in his mouth, resisting the urge to close his eyes and make obscene noises as he savored the taste.

“Good, huh?”

“Okay, I guess.” And there was that smile again, curling his lips. He bit the side of his mouth to keep it in check.

“Liar,” Agron scoffed, but his eyes were once more brimming with mirth. “This is the best damn piece of meat you’ve ever put in your mouth, you might as well admit it.”

Nasir tried to rein in his reaction, but even as he was able to hold back the grin, he couldn’t help the teasing eyebrow arching on his forehead.

“This wouldn’t even crack the top ten, I’m afraid.”

Agron gasped loudly, hand grasping his chest in mock outrage, and Nasir finally gave up on his attempts to restrain himself and smiled freely as he stuck another forkful between his lips.

“Like this one time in Brazil…” he hummed appreciatively, “there was this guy, and _damn_ was he–”

“He cooked a better steak than this?” Agron interrupted with a questioning look. “I might want to meet this guy.”

Nasir washed down the food with a generous gulp of wine before he looked up from his plate again.

“Steak? Oh, no. He was a vegetarian.” Their eyes met across the table. “Sorry, what were we talking about again?”

The most innocent of smiles on his lips, Nasir took great pleasure in the way Agron now tried to conceal the fact he was coughing up the wine that had found its way down his windpipe.

The meal continued in the same surprisingly easy and effortlessly laidback tone. The two of them had apparently found a rhythm between that worked for some strange reason. A combination of mutual distrust and interest of some kind. You never knew what would happen the next moment, whether the other man would threaten your life or save it. Or just crack a stupid joke. It made for an interesting dinner conversation.

Nasir was just finishing up his plate and fishing the last piece of steak in his fork, when he happened to look up, only to find Agron staring at him with an expression that he would have needed a manual to interpret. The other man looked away quickly, as if caught doing something he shouldn’t have.

“What?” Nasir asked intrigued, while Agron did his best impression of playing stupid. “Do I have sauce on my face or something?”

The other man kept avoiding the question, scratching the back of his neck before making a show of gesturing at Nasir’s plate, reaching out his hand.

“You’re finished, right?”

When Nasir nodded his answer, Agron started to clear away the plates and glasses and then walked the few feet to the sink. Nasir offered to help with the washing up, but was quickly waved off.

“You can keep me company,” the bigger man offered instead, smiling again.

Nasir got up from the table but hesitated. He really should have been going, there was nothing keeping him here anymore. Just get his clothes and go. Thank you for the meal and everything. So long. It’s been nice.

He walked over to Agron in the tiny kitchen and jumped up to sit on the counter.

“You know, I still can’t quite understand why you’re doing all this. Usually when people find out who I am they–”

“Get shot,” Agron interjected smirking.

“Well, that too. But before that, they don’t exactly tend to cook me dinner.”

Agron kept washing and rinsing the plates, not bothering to answer.

“I guess what I mean is, usually people tend to be more afraid of me,” Nasir prodded.

If Agron’s grin had been any wider, it would have split his face. He kept his eyes on the dishes in front of him when he finally answered. “I told you, I could snap you in half if I wanted to...”

_Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it..._

“...little man.”

Nasir drummed his fingers on the laminate. Once. Twice.

“Since you cooked and all, I’m going to be generous and give you a chance to take that back.”

Agron’s smile never faltered. “And if I won’t?”

Nasir really shouldn’t have let himself be provoked that easily. It was just a word, after all. And the two of them did have a distinct size difference between them, so the term was not completely inaccurate. But this was a question of principle more than anything.

“It wasn’t a request.”

His grip around the man’s throat was tight, and his position on top of the counter and slightly over Agron worked in his favor – that and the surprise. Ironically enough, he knew he would not win this fight if it came to size alone, but he had skill on his side. The chokehold would do its job in a few more moments if done right, and Nasir knew what he was doing. It wouldn’t kill the man, but hell if it didn’t teach him a lesson. He could see the color on Agron’s face changing already, and the man had to brace himself against his hands that were still submerged in the murky, soapy water.

And then it happened. What exactly _it_ was, Nasir couldn’t say; the few seconds that followed were a blur. But the next thing he knew, he had the air knocked out of him and he was pinned against the counter, his arm twisted behind him, Agron’s wide frame pressing on his back. The steak knife Agron was now holding against his throat was still wet, dripping water on the counter surface.

There was a moment of silence before Agron leaned in, his mouth next to Nasir’s ear. “I may not be on every drug cartels hit list or carry a bag of guns around with me everywhere I go, but that doesn’t mean I’m completely useless. Okay?”

Nasir kept gripping the table’s edge with his one free hand, trying to catch his breath and get a handle on what had happened. He must have lost his concentration at some point, made some kind of a mistake he hadn't realized he was making. That was the only possible explanation. But how had that happened?

“Okay?” Agron repeated.

The knife under his chin dug deeper, finally pulling Nasir out of his thoughts. “Okay,” he answered, his voice a little rough because of the steel pressing on his throat.

“And if I were to let you go now, you wouldn’t try anything stupid again?”

Nasir had closed his eyes as he was trying to mentally go through all the different strategies for him to get out of Agron’s hold, but it seemed the best course of action now would be to at least pretend to go along.

“Nothing stupid.”

“Good.”

Agron gradually eased the pressure on Nasir’s throat and his back, and stepped away. He flipped the knife around in his hand a few times before placing it down on the table. He then went back to his dishes and pulled the plug from the sink, which left Nasir watching the water disappearing down the drain as he leaned against the counter, slowly massaging the skin on his neck.

Agron wiped his hands on a towel hanging on the cabinet door and turned back to him. He was smiling freely again, as if the last few minutes had never happened.

“Anyone ever told you, you should work on your manners?”

Nasir only glared at him in response, hand still on his throat, but Agron looked hardly perturbed and simply turned his back and walked away to wipe the table.

“Now I’m no expert, but attacking the host cannot be proper dinner etiquette, you know...little man.”

Agron might have been facing away from him, but Nasir could practically hear the smirk on his face. Smug bastard. The knife on the counter caught his eye, and he shifted his gaze between Agron’s back and the blade a few times before he made up his mind.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Now it was true that Nasir would have been more comfortable in a gunfight than in hand to hand combat, but then again he wasn’t _that_ bad in a knife fight, either. And this was a civilian as well, not a pro. A fucking giant, but a civilian nonetheless. This should not take too long.

He covered the distance between them quickly and practically jumped on the other man’s back and held on, trying his best to topple him over. Agron, however, was better prepared for the attack than Nasir had anticipated, and bucked him over his head with surprisingly little effort. Thankfully, Nasir had quick reflexes and was able to land on his feet rather than his neck. He gripped the knife tighter and turned around to lunge at the bigger man, but again the attack was easily deflated as Agron ducked, making Nasir miss his mark and stumble on his feet.

Where had he learned to fight like that? In nursing school? Antiquarian book fairs?

Agron took advantage of his unsteady step and wasted no time tackling him face down on the floor, landing partly on top of him and knocking most of the air out of him in the process. The weight difference was considerable, but this time Nasir wouldn’t let himself be overpowered. He bucked his hips upward, using his feet as leverage, the rubber soles of his boots gripping on the floor. It wasn’t much, but enough to send the other man off balance, giving Nasir a chance to crawl away from under him. Just as he was about to get back on his feet again, Agron grabbed his ankle trying to drag him back, but a swift kick to the face had him release his hold.

Nasir scrambled to his feet, knife in hand. He was struggling to draw breath, and it seemed Agron wasn’t faring much better. So wasting no time, Nasir started closing the distance between them. Agron took an instinctive step back, and then another. Soon Nasir would have him backed all the way against the wall.

Agron was wiping blood from his nose. There was a trickle of it running down his cheek, and Nasir smirked.

“To be honest, for a nurse you don’t fight half bad.”

Agron took another step back, his eyes on the knife.

“I guess you could say I’ve worked in rough neighborhoods.”

For a second, Nasir had a strange feeling that there was something wrong, that there was something he should have realized, but hadn’t. He brushed the sudden fear aside, and pressed on. “Who knew hospitals in Germany were such dangerous places?”

“They can be. But I never said I worked in Germany.”

Nasir should have known then. But he was running high on adrenaline and apparently not listening to the cautious part of his brain carefully enough. Lowering his guard before launching an attack, he had been warned about that before.

“Where, then? South of France?” He snorted. “Yeah, I’ve heard they’ll cut a bitch over there.”

There was a pause, before Agron finally took his eyes off the blade and raised them back to Nasir’s face.

“Afghanistan, mostly.”

It happened before Nasir had chance to even acknowledge the answer properly. Agron charged forward, sliding on the floor aiming for his legs. Nasir was down on the floor before he had time to react. They rolled across the tiles, and Nasir was soon nearly reduced to kicking and clawing, which he knew to be a very bad sign. Finally, he ended up on his back, Agron looming on top of him, forcing his arms over his head, grabbing his wrists and loosening the knife away from his grip, taking hold of it himself. And soon enough, the blade was pressing against Nasir’s skin again.

Nasir tried to get his breathing to even before he looked up at the face hovering over his. The other man’s eyes were several shades darker than before, and there was an unmistakable danger in them. Nasir swallowed hard enough to make the knife jump on his throat.

The edge of the blade scraped against his skin, travelling up his neck. His arms were aching, stretched in a weird angle over his head. The cut on his back was throbbing after having made too close a contact with the hard tile floor. His head was pounding. And his jeans were growing just a little tighter by the second.

Agron had his weight placed almost entirely on Nasir’s legs, stopping him from moving them an inch. Then, he slowly shifted himself, sliding his thigh between Nasir’s. He leaned in closer; his eyes seemed to only be getting darker and darker.

“I have to say...”

Nasir held his breath and closed his eyes.

“...if this is your idea of foreplay, I’m a little scared of what’s going to happen when we get to the bedroom.”

  



	9. Chapter 9

“You’ve got condoms here, right?” Nasir mumbled, addressing the words mostly to the other man’s lower stomach.

“Isn’t it a little late for that?” Agron asked and snorted.

But Nasir only smirked in response as he hoisted himself to his knees, happy to find his limbs less shaky than he had feared. He looked back over his shoulder at Agron, who let his head fall back down on the mattress and closed his eyes. He was making no effort to move.

“Top drawer. Maybe. It’s been a while, if I’m honest.”

Nasir scrambled up from the bed and walked the short distance to the dresser. He opened the said drawer and then did nothing more than stare in silence for a while.

“Uh, yeah…Careful with that one, it’s probably still loaded.”

Nasir’s head snapped back to look at the other man who was still lying on the bed with his eyes closed. His stare returned to the drawer.

“You’ve had a loaded M16 in here all this time?”

“You deal with Glaber long enough, you learn to take precautions.”

Nasir still couldn’t quite get his eyes to leave the gun, not until he heard the bed creaking behind him at least. But it was just Agron stretching and then folding his arms behind his head.

“So, any condoms there then, or are we out of luck?”

It was the sight of the toned, bronzed muscles splayed on the bed that finally broke through Nasir’s daze, and he pulled the drawer open further, reaching out his hand to blindly search the back. He only hoped he wasn’t going to hit any live grenades while at it. His fingers grabbed something cylindrical, and when he pulled it out, he was happy to read a familiar label on the front. He threw the tube over his shoulder in the direction of the bed, ignoring the protesting sound behind him when it apparently hit something on the way to the mattress.

The lube had been a good sign, so Nasir continued his search and fumbled around the back of the drawer a little more and then finally found what he was looking for. He closed the drawer and was already turning towards the bed when he looked at the packet more closely. He snorted.

“Strawberry? Really, Agron?”

His eyes drifted from the condoms to the man on the bed, but to his surprise, instead of looking embarrassed as Nasir would have assumed, Agron actually looked mostly pleased with himself over this information.

“Strawberry?” The man mused a little incredulously and then rolled his eyes chuckling to himself. “Fucking Crixus.” 

Apparently this was supposed to be enough in terms of an explanation, but Nasir was only more confused than ever. He cocked an eyebrow at the man, who was still smirking to what seemed to be his own private joke.

“Uh…So your ex had a thing for berry flavors?” he tried, but this only had Agron laughing harder, shaking his head forcefully as he tried to stifle his chortling long enough to speak.

“He’s not my…Jesus…” Agron cleared his throat in another attempt to regain his composure. “God, no.” He sat up and rubbed his face, his expression now a strange combination of amusement and disgust. “He’s a friend of a friend. And that’s on a good day.”

“Then what…”

“His girlfriend owns this place. You know, the friend with the sabbatical I was talking about before. They moved out just before I moved in, so evidently that got left behind. Guess they didn’t need them after all.” He bit his lip again. “Though I couldn’t really fault Nae for wanting to use one. I certainly wouldn’t like to go anywhere near Crixus’s…” He cringed visibly and flopped back down on the bed. “And that’s enough of thinking about that or I’ll never be able to get mine back up again.”

Nasir was still standing by the drawer more than a little baffled. He took another look at the packet in his hand and then frowned at the small print on the back. “You know, if these are meant for blow jobs only, I don’t think they’ll be much use for us.” He looked at Agron again, but the short bout of disappointment quickly dissolved at the view. If sucking dick was all he would end up doing the rest of the night – and with no additional flavoring, thank you very much – well, there were worse fates. He felt the corners of his mouth quirking upwards once more. “But then again if you’re left impotent already anyway…”

Agron shot up from the bed with a groan and walked over to Nasir, pushing him forcibly aside as he started rummaging through the drawers, muttering to himself something about stupid French cockblockers. In normal circumstances, Nasir probably would have been more annoyed about being manhandled like that, but at the moment he was too busy getting turned on to be honest. And when Agron finally presented another – flavor-free – packet of condoms from the second drawer with a loud “a-ha!”, Nasir wasted no time grabbing it from his hand before shoving the man back towards the bed with enough force to make him stumble on his feet. Then, once Agron’s legs had hit the edge of the mattress, Nasir was quick to follow, pressing the man down on the sweat-soaked sheets and silencing all and any protests over the rough treatment with a well-timed bite of his nipple.


	10. Chapter 10

Nasir could feel his arms being close to giving out from under him, and he bent down further, his face now half buried in the mattress, as he tried to find a more workable position and some way to  _breathe_ . But then he felt Agron slowly pull away, and the next thing he knew, he was being pulled along with him, as Agron rolled them both gently on their side.

“You know,” Agron started then, his voice low and barely there, while his lips made their way up Nasir’s neck, and his arms wrapped tighter around him, “you never did tell me your name.”

Nasir did his best not to flinch too visibly at the suggestion left hanging in the air, but he could feel his whole body tensing, and so there was little chance Agron didn’t feel that, too. As close as he was.

Of course, Nasir could have easily just lied, picked out a name from a hat and gone with it; it wasn’t like he had never done that with one night stands before. But he didn’t seem to be able to do it this time. Somehow, the idea of Agron calling him a false name felt worse than no name at all. Which made no sense, but Nasir was long gone trying to figure out what was going on between them.

The moment seemed to go on forever, all action suspended in the air. Silence stretched and the sound of blood rushing in his ears was starting to make Nasir dizzy. And then he felt Agron’s lips moving again, slowly, gently. A kiss behind his ear. A nip of teeth on his earlobe. Low humming reverberating along the skin on his neck.

“Well, I just hope you don’t mind being called a god, then. Because I have a feeling you’ll be hearing that a lot in the next few minutes.” 

Nasir couldn’t see Agron’s face but he could hear him smiling. He let out a shaky laugh himself, half out of amusement half out of relief.

“I thought I was the religious one?”

One hand travelled slowly downward, drawing lazy circles on Nasir’s skin. “I have my moments of reverence,” Agron said between peppering kisses on Nasir’s shoulder, “if I find something worth worshipping.”

“Sweet talker,” Nasir scoffed, smirking, and then tilted his head and nuzzled Agron’s neck in return. “I bet you say that to a-aaah..:” 

At that exact moment, Agron had travelled south enough, delving between Nasir’s thighs before taking him in his hand, twisting his wrist just so. And Nasir leaned back against the solid chest behind him, breath hitching while Agron’s hand kept on moving, and then he grabbed the back of Agron’s head and pulled him down for a kiss. It was mostly just saliva and sloppiness, the tilt of their heads too awkward for it to grow deeper, but for the moment Nasir was happy enough to just taste and feel. Feel more. As much as he could.

Then the other man slowly pushed back in again and Nasir got his wish. And then some.

And not long after that, Agron was once more everywhere at once: his lips, his teeth, his tongue, his hands... His arms all around Nasir like a human vise. His voice in Nasir’s ear, hoarse and out of breath, murmuring sweetness and filth into his skin, German and English intermingling, shutting out everything else.

Now, Nasir had never been one to be coddled in any area of his life, and sex was no exception. He had always taken care of himself – in every way possible – he didn’t need others to do it for him. And anyway, sex was about fucking, wasn’t it? Oral, anal, top, bottom, cowboy, missionary, crab, basset-hound or whichever other sex-position named after an animal or an outdated profession. Fucking. That was the whole point. Right?

The idea of letting go like this, of being more or less at the mercy of someone else was not something he could have ever imagined himself doing voluntarily, let alone enjoying. And yet, now, just allowing himself to be  _held_ when the other man held him even closer, allowing himself to be opened when Agron kept pushing in even deeper, it was… 

It was pure fucking ecstasy.

It was almost too much. .

And maybe it was all the adrenaline in his system, or the painkillers, the wine or the two-inch knife wound on his shoulder that made the difference… Maybe all of the above. Which only meant that Nasir better enjoy this now, because he had no intention of repeating the experience.

There were flashes of pain shooting up Nasir’s arm, his back, but that pain was easy to ignore when every other nerve ending in his body was on fire, too. A sensory overload that forced everything else out of its way. Like a crescendo of pain and pleasure building up, spreading from his core all the way to his fucking fingertips. His split-ends were probably going to have their own orgasms soon if it lasted like this for any longer.

But fortunately – or not, as it were – it didn’t.

The end, when it came, was enough to leave him practically shaking in Agron’s arms, head falling back as he cried out, his back arching, fingers desperately trying to hold on to the other man’s flesh for some balance, blunt nails digging deep enough to leave marks. All the while, he was being held in place with a firm grip as Agron kept driving even harder into the now nearly hyper-sensitive flesh, the nails sinking into his arm only spurring him on.

They seemed to ride the last wave of release for what seemed like forever, until Agron was finally too spent to move and ended up rolling onto his back on the mattress, Nasir a dead weight on top of him. Neither of them made an effort to stir for some time after. It was work enough to just remember how to breathe.


	11. Chapter 11

Nasir fumbled around in the darkness, mostly feeling his way across the floor, trying to get to the door as quietly as possible. Also, locating his clothes would be a bonus. Though if his memory served him correctly, most of them would be on the living room floor anyway, his t-shirt being the only exception, and losing that wouldn’t necessarily be the end of the world.

And in all honesty, the thought of getting back into his by now probably fairly rancid pieces of clothing was not exactly the best incentive to get him moving.

He wondered briefly if taking one of Agron’s shirts would be too much like taking advantage, when something caught his eye in the sliver of light coming from the bathroom. He stopped and backtracked to the door and slowly pushed it open enough to squeeze through, careful not to let too much light in to wake up the man asleep on the bed behind him.

He blinked a few times adjusting to the light, but unfortunately the blinking didn’t seem to help make sense of what he was seeing.

What the actual fuck was going on?

The stupid ass of a man had washed his clothes.

Done laundry. The man had done laundry in the middle of the night.  _Nasir’s_ laundry. What was he, insane?

Nasir walked over to the makeshift drying line suspended over the bath and stared at his clothes for a moment shaking his head, before reaching out to grab them. The jeans were damp still but wearable as was his shirt, so he put them on. The leather jacket would need some time still, but it would dry on its own once the sun came up anyway.

He tiptoed out of the bathroom, leaving the door ajar as it had been, and cast one last look on the bed before finally reaching for the bedroom door. His hand hesitated for a second on the door handle, but he pushed it down eventually, scrunching the wet leather in his other hand as he walked out into the corridor, closing the door gingerly behind him.

The kitchen light was on, which meant he was thankfully done stumbling in the dark as he made his way to the living room. He picked his boots up from the floor, deciding to put them on outside to avoid any added noise and crossed the floor barefoot.

He had almost made it to the front door when he made the mistake of glancing towards the kitchen and had to stop on his feet, his eyes drifting to the kitchen counter. He put the shoes and the jacket down and sauntered over to the table and then reached for the plastic bottle. Amoxicillin. There was a post-it note on the cap.

**Three times a day. Five days. Keep your arm from falling off.**

Nasir tried all he could not to smile, but it was an impossible effort. He gave a resigned sigh and pocketed the pills and then took the post-it, folded it and put it in his pocket as well.

He turned to go once more, when something blue caught his eye on the side table freezing him in mid-step. He closed his eyes, hoping he was seeing things, but when he opened them again, the damned thing was still there, mocking him, the glossy paper glistening under a flickering downlight.

He peeled another post-it note off the side of the package.

**Something for the road.**

This time he scrunched the paper up in defiance, throwing it down on the floor as he slumped down on a kitchen stool, cringing slightly after landing on a wrong angle. He buried his face in his hands and groaned, close to crying in frustration. This was not happening. Not. Fucking. Happening. Not to him.

Motherfucking German asshole.

Nasir reached his hand out blindly, the wrapper crinkling under his fingers as he slid the packet over. He opened it with familiar ease and proceeded to shove a whole cookie into his mouth. He let his head fall on the counter and hit his forehead on the surface a few times for emphasis. The gun wedged in the waist of his jeans was jabbing him in all the wrong places, and he shifted it to the other side, briefly contemplating just using it to put himself out of his misery.

He grabbed a handful of the cookies, slid down from the chair and stomped back across the living room floor towards the corridor. Once he reached the bedroom, he had one cookie left; he popped it in his mouth as he scrambled back on the bed. There was a dull clunking noise in the darkness when his gun hit the bedside table.

“I thought you were going.”

“I came back,” he huffed. “Got a problem with that?”

“Not necessarily…uh…mm…Babe?”

“What?”

“Why do you taste like chocolate?”

“Oreos.”

“Oh.”

“And don’t call me ‘babe’.”

“Sweetheart...”

“Fuck off.”

“Sweetie pie, sweet cheeks, honey cake, _liebling_ …”

“I swear I’m going to shoot you if you don’t shut the fuck up right now.”

“You’re going to tell me your real name, then?”

“No.”

“So babe it is.”

“Asshole.”

“That works, too.”


	12. Chapter 12

Agron began to stir when he felt someone nudging him on the shoulder, but it was the coolness of the steel being pressed into his hand that had him sit up on the bed – without a second thought and barely blinking at the morning light. It might have been some time since he last wore his cammies, but the instincts were still there, drilled into his spine.

“Where?”

“The fire-escape.”

“How many?”

“Three at least. I think there’s someone downstairs, too. I’ll go and check. You okay here?”

Agron nodded, already training his eyes – and the barrel of the gun – towards the windows.

The other man’s footsteps had barely faded away behind the door, when Agron could already see the slowly approaching shadows behind the glass. He quickly rolled off the bed and hid behind the frame. And then he waited.

It seemed to take forever. And for that forever, the only noise in his ears was the steady pound of his pulse and his own breathing. In and out. In and out. In and...

And then he could finally hear glass breaking on the other side of the room and then boots scrunching over the shattered pieces on the floor. He leaned back a little lower and took the gun in both hands, aiming it at the heads he could see gradually appearing in his line of sight over the bed. He knew he was still mostly hidden from view, but he also knew that it wouldn’t stay like that for much longer.

And then the first of the men turned his head just the right way, and their eyes finally met across the now fairly short distance. And Agron watched with some satisfaction as the look on the other man’s face turned from smug to shocked in a fraction of a second.

“Putain de merde–”

He was quick to raise the assault rifle in his hand, but thankfully Agron was quicker, and the man never made it further than that before he already had a hole in his head. And then all hell broke loose.

There were bullets flying everywhere, skimming every possible solid surface and breaking everything breakable in their way. Agron ducked under the bed and quickly slid to the other side.

Being forced to keep himself halfway under the bedframe was making aiming a little difficult, so he ended up firing almost blindly to what he hoped was the right direction, until the shower of bullets still raining down on him finally stopped. And the timing could not have been better, he realized, since his magazine was quickly running empty. The gun clicked pathetically for a few times, until Agron finally stilled his finger. He released the magazine and reloaded. And then let his head fall back on the floor with a deep sigh.

The sudden silence in the room felt oddly jarring, and he took a minute to steady his breathing before he finally sat up and took a look around him, shaking his head gently in disappointment at the sight.

Generally speaking, he would have preferred to at least have had his morning coffee – and maybe even a pair of pants on – before having his home being invaded by Glaber’s idiot henchmen.

He sat still for another moment, until the sound of a door slamming shut in the other room made him finally spring to action again. He scrambled for his scattered clothes on the floor and then kept dressing himself as he ran out of the room. His foot got caught in the leg of his jeans and he cursed to himself as he jumped along the corridor, trying to keep himself upright. When he finally made it to the living room, he was once more mostly clothed and weapon in hand, but the view that greeted him had him quickly stop on his feet in the doorway.

He watched the other man hurriedly repacking his bag down on the floor. There was smoke slowly drifting into the room from the gap under the front door.

“What...”

The man looked up at him and got to his feet, hiking his bag higher on his shoulder. There was a smudge of soot running across his left cheek.

“They’ve set the whole place on fire,” he said simply, “Please tell me there’s some other way out of here?”

“The fire-escape,” Agron began but was quickly interrupted.

“No, they’ll be waiting for us out front,” the younger man said, shaking his head, “We’ll be riddled with bullet holes before we even get out of the alley.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Agron replied with a quick smile and then turned on his heels back towards the corridor, waving his hand behind him. “Come on, time’s a fucking wasting.”

When he passed the dresser in the bedroom, he stopped long enough to grab his wallet from the top and shoved it in his back pocket.

“Where are we...”

But Agron was too busy navigating over dead bodies and broken glass to answer right away. He looked over his shoulder only after they had made it outside and stepped onto the shaky metal grill suspended under the windows.

“Just trust me, okay?”

The other man frowned for a second but finally nodded before peering down at the yet empty alleyway below. And then he pushed Agron less than gently in the shoulder.

“But get a fucking move on, alright? I’m not ready to die out here today.”

“Yeah, well me neither.”

Agron’s habit of over-preparing against all possible scenarios had been the butt of many a joke since as long as he could remember. At home with his brother, with his friends in school, even during deployment – although those fucks should have really known better.

But then, once in a blue moon, there were days like these that made all the teasing and taunting and the exasperated eye-rolling worth it. And he did a big old _I-fucking-told-you-so_ dance in his head as he grabbed the bundled rope ladder lying at his feet and proceeded to throw it onto the top of the roof. It hit its target and held, and Agron grinned a little wider to himself.

“I hope you’re not afraid of heights.”

He ignored the grumbling and cursing coming from behind him and instead climbed the wall in a few easy pushes and pulls. There was a reason his record time on the obstacle course at the Academy had held for three years, after all.

It was only once they had made it to the top and then covered the distance to the other side of the roof that Agron finally realized the one problem in his escape plan. It had been designed for a six-two ex-marine.

And his companion was...not that.

He looked at the gap stretching between the buildings and then he looked back at the man now standing next to him. He could already hear the wail of sirens somewhere in the distance.

“Think you can make it, little man?” 

And yes, the use of the hated nickname was definitely done on purpose this time. If it had been enough to get him to nearly choke Agron to death yesterday, it should hopefully be enough to get him to the other side in one piece.

But the other man was still standing stoically in place, fiddling with the strap of his carrier bag. And then, without a word, he took the bag off his shoulder and threw it to the other side. They both stared after it, as it flew in a high arc in the air and finally landed with a loud thump on the second roof. Barely.

“Nasir.”

Agron blinked in confusion and turned to look at the man. “Sorry, what?”

“You can call me Nasir, if you promise not to do it in public. And let’s just nix the nicknames for good from now on, okay?” He was still staring straight ahead with a deepening frown on his forehead.

And Agron smiled. And he realized he had probably smiled more in the last 24 hours than in the whole of last year combined. And Naevia would probably kill him for letting her parents’ store be burned down like this. And Boucher would probably just kill him for the hell of it.

And still, he smiled. Like a fucking idiot.

“Last one on the other side pays for breakfast.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Putain de merde” = “Fucking shit”


	13. Chapter 13

“So your name’s not really Kölner?”

The other man huffed and leaned his head back against Nasir’s chest. The damp tresses slid between Nasir’s fingers as he kept idly carding his hand through the short hair.

“No...Glaber may be as stupid as they come, but I had to give him _some_ credit,” Agron said, “I mean, two German guys both named Hoffmann suddenly snooping around here would be just a little too suspicious, even for him, don’t you think?” 

“And you really think your brother’s still alive?”

Silence fell, and Agron shifted on the bed, his thigh bumping against Nasir’s.

“I don’t know,” he answered finally in a quiet voice, turning his gaze out the window. “The odds are sort of stacked against it, but... Boucher uses reporters as bargaining chips sometimes. That’s why Nae had to leave this place so quickly, before they could get to her, too. So if Duro’s worth enough for them, maybe they have kept him al...” His voice trailed off and Nasir heard him take in a deep breath. 

“Look, I’ve been running around the Med for a year now after every lead I could find. I’ve been everywhere from Tunis to fucking Tenerife. As long as there’s a chance, I can’t leave. I have to try and find him. Even if it means I get killed in that fucking mine tomorrow. I need to get answers; that’s what I was supposed to be doing here in the first place.” 

“Until I came to screw things up for you.”

Agron gave a hollow laugh and grabbed the hand that was resting on his chest, lacing their fingers. “I think the choice to be screwed was mutual, to be fair. And without you, I probably never would have even heard about that place Boucher has set up. To even fucking think that Duro could have been here all this time...” He paused again and Nasir could see him blinking a few times too many. His thumb was drawing circles on Nasir’s palm. And silence once more stretched between them, until Agron almost physically seemed to shake off the sudden heaviness in the air.

“But it's not all about me, anyway. You have your own reasons to be here. Get justice for _your_ brother...”

A scene from earlier on one of the rooftops flashed in front of Nasir’s eyes then, and he instinctively gripped the fingers between his own a little harder.

“Which I guess begs the question, why _didn’t_ you just kill Boucher back there?” Agron continued. “I mean, you said that’s the one thing you have left to do for your family, that he’s the one you’ve been searching for all this time. You had him in your sights right outside the store today. And don’t even try to tell me you couldn’t have made that shot. So why not?”

There  _was_ an answer to that question, but it was one Nasir couldn’t bring himself to say out loud. If for no other reason than the fact that he still couldn’t believe it himself.

“There were kids on that street,” he said instead, “And enough innocent people have been dragged into this already.”

Agron sighed and Nasir’s finger absently trailed after an errant drop of water running down his neck.

“And speaking of bystanders,” he continued, deciding a change in topic was called for, “That guy who owns this place?”

“Oenomaus?” 

“Yeah...He must be a pretty good friend to just let you stay here for the night without any questions. _And_ with a guy who’s got more stiches on his arms than in his jeans.”

Agron huffed out a dry little laugh.

“I wouldn’t say he’s a friend, exactly. More like someone who hates Boucher even more than he hates me. We won’t be going out for drinks together anytime soon, but he would never rat me out either.”

“And the guy you called for help?”

“Spartacus?” Agron asked, and this time Nasir could see a genuine smile finally reach his face. “He saved my life the first day I ever came into town. When I let my mouth run off a little too much with the wrong people, if you can believe that.” He snorted again. “And then I was thankfully able to return the favor. But I don’t know if that counts as being friends, not really, not in this town. We just...have each other’s backs, I guess.”

“And all the others? Did you save all of them, too? I mean, you must have, if they’re willing to just risk their lives for you out there tomorrow?”

And now Agron was chuckling out loud as he shook his head. “Nah, man. Those guys...they’re just all fucking insane.”

Nasir stayed quiet for a moment.

“So _do_ you actually even have any real friends?”

Agron sighed and tilted his head back to catch Nasir’s eye.

“I guess I’m just an acquired taste, you know?”

And Nasir couldn’t exactly help but return his smile.

“Yeah, I know.”

He grabbed Agron’s chin to turn his head even more towards him and leaned down to give a peck on his lips. But there was a thrum of need in the air – the need to forget, if only for one moment longer – and it had been left lingering there for far too long. So Nasir was hardly surprised now to find Agron quickly turning around on his lap and pushing him gently against the headboard, hands cradling the back of his head. And then Nasir’s own hands were already running down the man’s spine before sliding under the waist of the damp towel.

Agron didn’t need much more coaxing.

He rolled over to his back and Nasir crawled between his thighs, leaving a trail of kisses as he moved up his chest, hand reaching for the knot on the towel.

“By any chance...earlier...you didn’t happen to take...”

Agron snorted against his neck. “Sorry. I was a bit too occupied with the whole building-burning-down-on-us thing to be worrying about the future of my sex-life.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Nasir replied with a heavy sigh, resting his forehead against Agron’s shoulder while his hand dipped down between the man’s thighs. “Too bad, though. ‘Cause I sort of really needed to be inside you. Like, right the fuck now.” 

And he really did, he suddenly realized – in more ways than one. Whatever the hell that meant.

Agron in turn only gave a breathy laugh at his sudden desperation, and Nasir could feel the man’s nails dragging lightly up and down his sides. His skin tasted faintly of shower gel still. Something generic and cheap, and the taste lingered on Nasir’s tongue.

“So what’s it worth to you?”

Nasir stilled his hand and then pushed himself back up on his elbow and looked down on Agron’s face. The other man was wearing a smile that was far too fond for Nasir to bear, so he only raised a teasing eyebrow in return.

“I promise I’ll have you screaming in five?”

Their stare held.

Then a sudden smack on Nasir’s ass had his other eyebrow join the first somewhere in the vicinity of his hairline.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” Agron said and scrambled up from under him, reaching for the drawer in the nightstand. No later, he already had a string of condoms and a bottle of lube in his hands.

“How did you...”

“Gannicus stays in this room when he’s in town,” Agron replied with a shrug, as if that was supposed to be any kind of an answer to Nasir’s question.

“So is _he_ an ex or another one of these friends-not-actually-friends you seem to have lying around behind every corner? And whose sex-lives you seem to be a little too familiar with, if I may add.”

Agron threw the condoms at his head and chuckled.

“Put your mouth where your money is, and maybe I’ll tell you.”


	14. Chapter 14

“Fuck!”

His head fell back on the mattress and he could feel the man on top of him still at once.

“Too deep?”

Agron had to take a couple of steadying breaths before he felt ready to speak again.

“Well, I’m pretty sure I can feel you at the back of my throat, and I don’t think I’m supposed to be giving you a blow job anymore.” He nudged his thigh gently against Nasir’s side and the man leaned down and stifled a laugh by pressing lips to his chest. 

“Need a break?”

Agron lifted his head to catch Nasir’s eye and answered with a smirk.

“Fuck that,” he said, tangling his fingers in the man’s hair, dragging his face up to a kiss he leaned in to give. Wet and open, all tongue and stubble scraping against stubble. “And you still owe me that scream, right?”

The younger man chuckled again, a deep and throaty sound that went straight to Agron’s groin. Not that he would have necessarily needed more stimulation in that area, to be fair. But still.

“Maybe it’s better if we don’t worry the neighbors, though.”

And Agron hummed in semi-agreement, but soon the noise was once more swallowed by Nasir’s mouth on his. And then Agron himself was almost swallowed whole, when the other man finally started moving inside him again. If only one torturously slow roll of hips at a time.

And unlike the storming world around them, Nasir’s touches stayed languid and unhurried for what seemed hours, like ocean waves gently lapping to the shore. It was a slow burn Agron suddenly realized he was completely unfamiliar with. He was so used to instant gratification – whether it was from bringing pain or taking pleasure – that it felt strange now to hold on to a moment like this, with no rush or panic, and just let himself...feel.

And it was only a temporary haven, Agron knew that, but he also knew that he would cherish it nonetheless. The way things were going, it might be the last place of peace he would ever know.

“Fuck, Agron...” 

Nasir’s voice sounded hoarse to his ears, the hot breath tickling his skin.

“...You feel so good. Jesus...”

“I thought we were...” He had to pause to gasp for air, hand grasping Nasir’s ass for leverage. “...nixing the nicknames.”

If he would have had any more blood in his system to spare, it would have now rushed to join the rest at the pit of his stomach, when Nasir’s laugh reverberated against his skin.

“Sex is an exception.”

“Mm? So I could call y–”

“Nuh-uh.” 

And then Nasir emphasized the point with a precise snap of his hips that made Agron’s breath hitch in his throat and his back arch off the mattress. And after that, it was clear that the time for any more small-talk was finally over.

The end seemed to take forever and at the same time not even close to long enough. The thrusts became harder and more brutal as the tide finally turned, the swell of the ocean only growing in mass as it began to billow over to Agron’s side. And he was almost certain that there was a hand-sized bruise slowly forming somewhere on the inside of his left thigh.

And it took far more than five minutes all in all, and Agron never did end up screaming, but he had no intention of ever asking for a refund, either. Because maybe, just maybe, sometimes it was possible to actually get more than you bargained for in this life and not less.

  
  


* * * * * * *

  
  


The afternoon sun filtered in through the blinds, painting golden stripes across the white sheets. Silence had settled between them a long time ago, only filled with the hum of traffic coming from outside and the soft whir of the ceiling fan above them.

The air smelled of old coffee and stale cigarette smoke.

Agron shifted gingerly on his side and tightened his hold on the man lying in front of him, bringing his back as close to his chest as was humanly possible. He buried his face further in the crook of his neck and breathed in the warmth of the skin under his own.

“Nasir, I...” 

But his voice faded away when he realized he didn’t have the faintest clue of what the fuck he was even supposed to be saying.

He could feel the scratch of a fingernail along the side of his arm.

“I know,” Nasir said softly, “Me too.”


	15. Chapter 15

Nasir leaned his back against the wall, tapping the sole of his boot softly against the plaster as he kept an idle eye on the scene in front of him.

The cars had been arriving at steady intervals all day, and now they were finally all gathered in the backroom of Oenomaus’ small, rundown hotel at the outskirts of the city. And Nasir had to say, as he looked at the mismatch group around him, that the company Agron kept at least wasn’t boring.

Oenomaus himself was standing in the opposite corner from Nasir, his arms crossed and a permanent frown etched on his face. He was a regal looking, middle-aged Nigerian with a deep voice that he used sparingly. And also a man that Nasir for whatever reason had grown to be respectfully cautious of, even though he had been nothing but courteous to Nasir every time they had spoken. But then Nasir knew these things could always turn on a dime; it had happened before.

Next to him stood the infamous Gannicus, a ponytailed man with an easy smile and a thick Irish brogue – and not an ex but a drinking buddy, as Agron had finally explained to Nasir yesterday. He was leaning his hand leisurely on the wall and making small talk with the only two women in the group: a blonde and a brunette of similar slim builds and with matching sets of handguns strapped to their hips.

Nasir tried to rack his brain for the couple’s names, but apparently his mind still had some catching up to do, so he finally decided to just give up the effort. It wasn’t their names that Nasir or the rest of them needed now, anyway, but their firepower. But he still was pretty sure that both names had been something compact and similar in style, much like the women themselves.

As Nasir’s stare slowly swept the rest of the room, it finally reached the last twosome, standing together by the door, seemingly deep in discussion. They were an odd pair: one of them a well-built, brooding tower, his long dark hair braided away from his face, and the other one a younger and a much slimmer man with a wide afro and an even wider smile. Agron had made no mention whether the two were a couple or not, but Nasir had his own suspicions. If only for the way the younger man was now leaning against the arm looped around his back.

“Agron tells me you’re quite useful with a gun in your hand yourself, Tiberius. A convenient skill to have, in the circumstances.”

It was the calm but commanding voice suddenly ringing in the room that had Nasir break away from his thoughts and turn his attention to the copper-bearded man standing opposite Agron at the pool table in the middle of the room. Nasir nodded in reply, quickly swallowing down the taste of bile that had been lingering in his throat ever since yesterday morning. Ever since that fistful of dynamite was dropped in his lap on that one particular rooftop where, for the first time in his adult life, he had found that he had suddenly been unable to pull the trigger.

“Yes, well, we all do what we can.”

He walked up to join the other men at the table where a rolled up blueprint and a map were carefully laid out. It was a little more low-tech than Nasir was used to, but it seemed to be sufficient in the circumstances. Computers and coding skills wouldn’t help them tonight, only explosives and brute strength would.

Maybe.

“Since the west corner is our best chance of getting in, the only thing left is to figure out some sort of a distraction at the other side of the property. That way we can hopefully find our way inside without having to take on all of their men at once.” Spartacus was still studying the papers lying on the table as he spoke.

“I think I can help you with that.” Agron’s hand resting on his shoulder was burning a hole through his shirt. “If you have me go in through the front, I’ll keep their attention long enough for you to get in.” He paused. “And hopefully out of there as well.”

Spartacus’ head snapped up at the words. “Alone?” he asked, narrowing his eyes, “You do understand this place is a–”

“I know what I’m doing,” Nasir interrupted, with a little more force in his voice than would have been necessary, “Trust me.”

And then he slowly turned his head to look up at Agron standing next to him.

A bout of silence filled the room as all eyes, including Nasir’s, suddenly were on Agron. He blinked and there was a deep line growing even deeper between his brows. Then the hold on Nasir’s shoulder tightened and Nasir watched the bigger man nod shortly at him before turning back to Spartacus.

“So, that’s settled then,” he said matter-of-factly, “Was that the last of it, or is there something else still left to decide on?”

Soon, Gannicus walked over clasping a hand on Agron’s back, and the three men went back to going through the plan one more time. Nasir took a step back to give them room to do their thing. He already knew the plan by heart anyway, and even more than that, he already knew what he was going to have to do once he got to Boucher.

Nasir just wondered if he would be able to do it this time.

Without anything better to fill his time with, he took out one of his guns and started fiddling with the magazine release – it was a nervous habit he had picked up a long time ago. Also a habit that he could rarely indulge in, at least in public. He still had the weapon in hand, when Agron finally walked over to him and hooked an arm around his shoulders.

“You ready?”

He took a deep breath and put on the most genuine-looking fake smile he could produce, as he nodded his head, then checked the magazine one last time and reloaded.

“Yeah, let’s finish this.”

  


* * * * * * *

  


The place looked even more formidable than Nasir had imagined. The stone wall running along the front of the property was at least ten feet tall, and the sliding gates now in front of him were made of nothing but solid steel.

He could feel the security cameras following his every move as he walked up closer. There were no speakers or phones or microphones anywhere to be seen, but suddenly a voice filled the night air anyway. It sounded robotic and had some static behind it, as it repeated the same pre-recorded message in Arabic and French.

“ _You are now entering privately held property. The gate is being patrolled, and you have one-hundred-and-twenty seconds to remove yourself from the premises. Your safety will not be guaranteed beyond this time period.”_

He looked around him one more time, but since he didn’t see any other options, he decided to just try his luck. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

“I am here to see Mr. Shadid.”

He waited, but for the next few seconds there was nothing to be heard but crickets – literally. And quickly Nasir was starting to feel more than a little stupid, standing alone in the darkness and speaking to himself like this. _A fucking grade A plan indeed, huh, Holmes?_

But then suddenly another voice sounded from somewhere above him. Less robotic than the voice before. Human.

“He is not seeing visitors.”

Nasir peered up into the darkness but still couldn’t find the source of the sound. Not that it really mattered since they seemed to be hearing him all the same; he had just never been that good with not knowing all the answers.

“He will see _me_.”

Another couple of seconds passed by in silence.

“And who are you?”

“His brother.”


	16. Chapter 16

“I have to say, you are the last person I ever expected to see again.”

_You and me both,_ Nasir thought darkly but said nothing.

“I just wish it could have happened in nicer circumstances,” Tariq continued and leaned back against the desk and crossed his arms. He watched Nasir for a moment longer and then shook his head before offering him a surprisingly warm smile. “So it was you all along, huh? Little Nasir...Who would have guessed you had it in you?”

Nasir didn’t feel the need to give a reply, so he only sat back in the chair and looked at the man standing in front of him. Really looked.

And he tried to search for something redeeming in his eyes. Tried to search for the thirteen-year-old he had seen dragged kicking and screaming out of their home that day. Only minutes before the whole place had been engulfed in flames.

And Nasir did find something there. No, he found  _many_ things. 

He saw their father’s wide face and piercing eyes and their mother’s long nose. He saw the hair curling around the ears just like it had done with Rasha. He saw  _family_ .

And maybe, just maybe, Nasir could also see that his brother was a victim, too. They had taken him and brainwashed him and made him into the man he was today. And okay, it probably didn’t excuse the things he had done in any way, but at least the thought was something to keep Nasir himself sane. That the man before him now was Tariq. His brother. And not the monster Nasir had pictured in his head for all these years.

“It is too bad you have been wasting all this time fighting me. I could have really needed someone of your tenacity around here.” Tariq huffed and gave Nasir another smile. “I mean, have you seen Glaber? A power hungry idiot if there ever was one. And let’s not even talk about Ashur...” He shook his head. “Someone with your work ethic would be a breath of fresh air in these parts.”

Nasir frowned.

“You want me to come work for you?”

His brother opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off prematurely by a heavy knock on the door.

“Boss?”

Tariq sighed and ran a hand over his face. “What is it?” he shouted out. “Did I not tell you no interruptions?”

The door creaked open and Ashur’s head popped in through the crack.

“We’ve got ourselves a little emergency here, boss.”

And then Nasir could only look on horrified as the man walked in, tugging a handcuffed and bloodied and limping Agron behind him. Ashur shoved Agron down on his knees on the floor and then had to take hold of a bookcase and catch his breath for a second, before he finally turned to Tariq again. It was clear Agron wasn't the only one who was paying the consequences of having his bulk dragged along around the property like that.

“There was a breach in the west gate,” Ashur said. “About ten of them got in. We had lost half of our men before we even knew anything was going on. Glaber was the last one to be taken out before we finally reached the scene.”

Tariq’s eyes fell on Agron. “And where are the rest?”

Nasir held his breath until Ashur finally shook his head.

“They were already gone before I arrived. We only found this idiot still trying to get in the main building.” He glared at Agron as he massaged his jaw that was sporting an angry bruise. In fact, now that Nasir took a closer look, the whole of his left face seemed to be slowly turning a darker shade of red. And there was a nasty cut running across his brow.

Nasir wouldn't be crying over that any time soon.

When he looked away from Ashur's face, he caught Agron’s eye, and the man gave him a look that Nasir knew was supposed to be saying something. The problem was, Nasir didn’t have a fucking clue what that something was supposed to be. Then he heard Tariq’s footsteps on the floor and forced himself to break the gaze to look up at his brother again.

“So you brought a friend along? How nice.” He was smiling again. “And our own dear Jane Austin expert of all people. Thought to take a walk on the wild side for once, huh, amigo?

“You fucking shit...”

But Tariq only laughed and then waved off Ashur, who had already raised his gun against Agron’s head after his exclamation.

“You probably think he’s doing it all out of the goodness of his heart, don’t you Nasir? Well, I’m sorry to shatter your innocence, but there’s only one reason this idiot would keep following you around, and that is because he’s hoping he’ll be getting some of that ass of yours in the end.”

“Fuck y–”

This time Agron was quickly cut off by Tariq’s fist hitting him sideways in the head, splitting his already split lip even more open. There was a new gush of blood spilling from the side of his mouth and dripping down along his chin and neck, mixing with the rest that had already started to dry on his skin.

“I wouldn’t test my patience any further if I were you,” Tariq told him evenly as he went to raise his hand again.

“And what makes you think that it isn’t a mutual agreement?” Nasir asked, as he slowly stood up from the chair and then watched his brother go completely still for a moment in front of him.

Nasir was fully expecting some sort of an outburst in return and maybe a fist in his face as well, but Tariq was only chuckling again when he finally turned around to look at him.

“Well, well, well... This has been one eye opening reunion, hasn’t it, brother?” He shook his head and tutted out loud. “Just think what Father would do if he could see his golden boy now. Running around killing people, offering his ass up to any old Euro trash that comes begging... No more a gift from the gods than the rest of us mortals.”

But Nasir was barely even hearing the taunting anymore, because something else in his brother’s words had caught his attention. And a sudden freezing cold started creeping up his spine.

“Golden boy?” 

The laugh he got in response was so bitter that it was practically dripping battery acid on the maroon floor tiles.

Nasir kept watching the crooked smile on his brother’s face for a moment longer, and then he finally saw it. It was there in the look in his eyes and in the set of his jaw. In the lines between his brows. Something heavy and irreparable.

“They never took you, did they?”

Silence fell, and for the next moment all there was to hear was Agron’s labored breathing and the clock ticking on the wall.

“You _went_ with them.”

Tariq leaned back on the table and absently rubbed his chin.

“Well, you have to agree that stacking the shelves at the old store wasn’t exactly the most fascinating career opportunity out there. I’ve always had my eye out for something bigger and better. Never one to settle, me.” There was a faraway look in his eyes when he flashed Nasir a quick grin. “And that old bastard always kept telling me I wouldn’t amount to anything. Little did he know, huh?”

He took a deep breath and then pushed himself off the desk once more, slapping his thighs.

“But that’s all in the past,” he continued almost cheerfully, ignoring the look on Nasir’s face, “And now it’s time to finish what we started.”

Nasir gave a resigned sigh as he watched the man walk to the back of the desk and take out a revolver from one of the drawers.

“You’re going to kill me?”

He then watched in growing confusion as his brother emptied all the chambers on the table only to pick up one of the cartridges and push it back in.

“And what kind of a lesson would that be?” he said. “And anyway, you’re the only family I have left. I’m older and wiser now, little brother. I’ve started to appreciate these things; it can get lonely out here all by yourself.”

_Too bad you couldn’t fucking figure that out_ before _you had all of us killed...brother dearest._

Tariq walked around the desk again and finally came to a stop in front of Nasir.

“But your little hobby has cost me a good deal of money and men over the past two years,” he continued evenly, “So it’s only fair to balance the scores a little, before I let you walk out of here. You must agree?”

Before Nasir could answer, Tariq was already pointing the gun against Agron’s temple.

“So you’d kill _him_?” Nasir was almost more confused than he was horrified. It hardly seemed enough of an eye-for-an-eye retribution. Not for a man like his brother, anyway.

And it...wasn’t.

“No.” Tariq said simply and flipped the gun in his hand and then held it out for Nasir. “You will.” 

On instinct, Nasir reached for the gun, but it was quickly yanked away again, when his brother continued, “And remember, you only have one bullet and Ashur here is faster than he looks.” He nodded towards the man still standing next to Agron. “So, there’s no point in trying to play hero.”

Nasir’s hand was still suspended in the air, and his brother chuckled as he finally lowered the gun in Nasir’s reach.

“Come on, just aim and shoot. It’s not that difficult. You’ve done it before.”

As if in slow motion, Nasir saw himself once more reaching for the handle of the gun and then taking it in his hand. The wood felt smooth against his skin as he slowly turned to the man kneeling beside him on the hard floor.

Their stare held for what seemed like forever, and the resignation Nasir could see in Agron’s eyes suddenly dug deeper into his flesh than any of the knives ever had. And then the pain became so unbearable, he just couldn’t take it any longer.

He raised the revolver slowly and aimed it at Agron’s forehead. His hand was steady and his grip firm. And his head had never been clearer. There was no choice.

He cocked the hammer back.

And then he pulled the trigger.

The sound of the shot echoed in the sparsely furnished room, and plaster flew in the air as the bullet hit the wall – barely an inch above Agron’s head.

And it may have been true that Ashur was quicker than he looked, but that still didn’t mean that he was quick enough. Not for Nasir.

The revolver clattered noisily on the floor and Nasir grabbed Ashur’s gun hand instead, twisting the wrist while he hit the man in the side of his face with his elbow. Ashur stumbled on his feet but was soon charging for Nasir again; however, he never got too close. And this time, it was a bullet that stopped him, not a well-aimed elbow.

“Nasir!”

Agron’s voice had him turn around just in time to see his brother reach down for another gun from the desk drawer.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Tariq straightened his back and raised his hands slowly. The gun was still dangling from his fingers.

“You wouldn’t shoot your own brother, now would you, Nasir? What would Father say?”

The smug smile on his face told Nasir all he needed to know about how this would turn out if he lowered his own gun even for a second.

“That my brother died a long time ago.”

He pulled the trigger. And this time, he didn’t miss.

The silence that followed was louder than the gunshot had been, and Nasir sighed, letting his hand fall back to his side. His eyes never left the body that was slowly sliding down against the wall behind the desk.

“Why did you come back?” 

“I wasn’t leaving here without you.”

Nasir nodded slowly, but he still couldn’t bear to look away from his brother, now slumped in an awkward angle on the floor. Then he heard Agron’s voice beside him.

“Look, we need to move. This place is going to blow up soon.”

And finally, Nasir shook off the invisible vise around him and forced himself back to action. There was time for all the rest later. Maybe.

He shoved the gun in the waist of his jeans and then walked over to crouch down behind Agron’s back. He pulled out the knife he always had wedged in his boot – 'always come prepared' was a good motto to have in the life he led.

Boy Scout to the bone – or something like that.

For a second, the silence between them was filled with the sound of the blade scraping against the cable tie.

“They found Duro,” Agron said suddenly and Nasir's hand froze. The other man was still staring at the opposite wall a frown between his bruised brows. “In one of the tunnels out back. There were others there as well. Kids mostly.”

“Is he...”

The plastic snapped and Agron quickly brought his hands around to rub his bruised wrists.

“Barely.”

Nasir could hear the man give out another long sigh as his eyes fell on Tariq’s body lying on the floor. Nasir swallowed against the sudden chokehold around his throat and straightened his back. Then he finally got back on his feet, grabbing hold of Agron’s arm to help him up with him.

“Then let’s get the hell out of here.”


	17. Chapter 17

Two days later...

Casablanca, Morocco

  


Agron splashed cold water in his face and then rubbed a hand forcefully over his eyes, if for no other reason than to force them to stay open.

The hour was getting late, and he knew he should be going. Or, to be fair, he should have gone already – the visiting hours had been over for some time now. But somehow he found himself almost physically unable to leave the building. Not now when he at last had his brother back again. It had been too fucking long.

The door to the bathroom opened and closed somewhere to his side, and Agron glanced up from the sink.

“So Mira said he’s doing better.”

Agron gave the man a tired smile and quickly shook off the surprise along with the last of the water on his hands. He wasn’t exactly the first person Agron had been expecting to see in this place. With his fear of authorities and all.

“He's breathing on his own again. They said he might even wake up tomorrow if there are no more complications.”

Nasir smiled in return and walked up next to him and then leaned on the edge of the countertop. “And how about you? Hanging in there?”

Agron gave a laugh that was little more than a huff of dry air. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Nasir shrugged, and his gaze lingered on Agron’s face for a moment before slipping away to somewhere over his shoulder.

“I’ll live.”

And maybe it was trite as hell, but Agron also knew what he meant, so he let the matter be. Then he took a deep breath and finally pushed himself off the sink he had been leaning on.

“So what are you doing here? Had enough of the girls’ hospitality already?”

“I came to say goodbye.”

The air-conditioner hummed quietly in the background and the porcelain felt cold under Agron’s fingers. And no, it didn’t exactly come as a surprise, but the sting was still there all the same.

Finally, Nasir lifted his eyes back to Agron's again.

“My life...it’s just not a double act, Agron. It never has been. I don’t think I even know how that would work.”

And Agron gave him a lopsided smile, although he knew there was a good chance it only came off as a grimace. “What if I promised to stay really, really quiet? And, like, always pay for gas?”

And there was that laugh again. And Agron felt like he was slowly going to pieces.

They kept staring at each other in silence for what seemed like hours, until the sound of sirens somewhere outside had them both jolt on their feet.

“I need to go.”

“Yeah, I know...”

And yet, neither of them moved.

Then, on instinct, Agron reached out a hand to brush a curling lock of hair away from Nasir’s face. However, Nasir was quicker and grabbed the hand in his in mid-air, and then he looked quickly around him.

“Not here.”

Agron nearly stumbled on his feet when his leg hit the toilet seat, but he had no time to lose his balance when he was already being pushed against the wall. The stall door slammed shut somewhere behind them.

And he had to lean down and Nasir had to lean up, and it wasn’t comfortable in any which way. And it certainly wasn’t pretty or perfect, more like teeth grazing bruised lips and nails digging into unsuspecting skin. But damn if it ever was _right_.

He felt fingers dipping under the waist of his jeans.

“Can I?”

And with the last ounce of strength that Agron possessed, he forced on a smile.

“I don’t know. Can you?”

The chuckle that followed then gently moved down Agron’s torso along with the man.

And yes, the wet heat, the travelling tongue, the barely there choking noise that seemed to echo in the silence of the otherwise blessedly empty bathroom...it was almost enough to make Agron forget.

Almost.

He brushed his finger down Nasir’s face, traced his jawline, and watched the man raise his eyes to his.

Almost.

But never quite.

And he barely felt the steadying hand taking hold of his hip or the tile wall hitting his shoulder. And then he was swallowed whole one more time. And he had to bite his arm to keep himself from crying out.

The next time they kissed, it was slow and deep. Simmering heat with a pinch of salt. And Agron almost smiled despite of himself.

But they didn’t have the time, so Agron turned them around and grabbed hold of the other man’s thighs and slid him up the wall until their faces were finally level. And Nasir was small enough that it really wasn’t a struggle at all. And yet somehow he also was too large at the same time. Too much. Too everywhere on Agron’s skin.

And they didn’t have the time – not here, not like this – but they kissed anyway.

Agron hoisted the other man a little higher and then spent far too long fumbling with the buckle of his belt.

“With only one arm? Well, now you’re just bragging.”

And he nearly lost his grip as he choked on a laugh, but he buried his tears in the crook of Nasir’s neck and then finally slid his hand under the yielding layers of cotton. Up and down. And around. And then up again. Until he was sure he would remember every vein and ridge and bump by heart. Until he was sure he wouldn’t forget. That Nasir couldn’t forget.

The heels of the man’s biker boots kept digging into his back just like his nails were digging into the back of his neck. And Agron stifled both of their cries with his lips when he finally – reluctantly – quickened his pace.

And he could still feel the tremors going through Nasir’s body when he leaned his forehead against the man’s own, their labored breathing intermingling between them. The warm wetness coating his fingers was slowly starting to cool and thicken, sticking to every small crease on his skin.

Nasir’s hands cupped his face and pulled him in for one last kiss. And then, just like that, it was over.

And the next thing Agron knew, he was leaning his forehead against the cool tiles instead of warm skin, and he could hear the bathroom door opening and closing somewhere beyond the stall walls.

The air-conditioning still hummed in the background, and one of the lamps by the windows flickered, producing another faint crackling noise into the quiet. The sound of sirens wailed outside. He could hear a pair of hasty footsteps running along the corridor, could hear the squeak of a rubber sole against linoleum.

Agron pushed himself off the wall with a heavy sigh and then finally walked out himself.

He made his way through the endless half-empty corridors with heavy steps, and the smell of the disinfectant was slowly starting to give him a headache. He pulled on the collar of his shirt as he walked. The skin was still clammy to the touch.

Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime of blue linoleum and sickly fluorescent lights, he reached the doors that slid open in front of him. The fresh night air was a welcome relief when it hit his face.

His rental jeep was standing alone at the end of the lot, and Agron shoved his hands into his pockets as he closed the remaining distance between them. A street light flickered above him, making shadows dance on the dark ground under his feet; and the sound of his lonely footsteps kept echoing on the asphalt until he finally came to a stop by the car. He pushed the key into the lock and was about to reach for the handle, when he suddenly heard a voice behind him.

“I never thanked you, did I?”

He froze – one hand on the key, the other one on the handle. Then he took a deep breath and carefully turned around.

“For the shoulder, I mean. I promised I would, but I never did, right?”

Agron kept shaking his head slowly as he watched Nasir’s lips curve up to a tentative smile.

“So I was thinking...are you free now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an ancient story that has been just lying on my hard drive, so I decided to finally post it, even though it is a little...different. And hey, if you made it this far, thank you for reading! (And also...sorry...?)


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